Eye of the Desert
by saiken2009
Summary: The Monkees come across a girl trying to protect a rare ancient artifact. Now they have to keep her and the artifact safe from falling into the wrong hands.
1. The Artifact

Author's Note: Another "timeless" fic. I'm using modern day knowledge and stuff here, but like "Secrets of a Monkee" I doubt anyone will be able to tell cause the boys still act the same. :D Enjoy!

Peter and Micky sat at a desk guarding a door in a hallway in the back of a museum. They had been hired as temporary security guards while the museum stored newly discovered artifacts from a recent archeological dig in their basement. A certain team of scientists were the only people allowed down there, and it was now Peter and Micky's job to guard the doors leading to the artifacts. How they had even gotten the job was still a mystery to Micky, but they needed the money and he wasn't going to argue. He thought he looked very goofy in the incredibly itchy uniform, and tried not to laugh every time he looked at Peter. They hadn't paid rent that month and Mr. Babbit was close to throwing them out again. Davy and Mike had taken jobs as waiters at a local restaurant to help because they hadn't had a gig in 3 months.

"Gee, Micky," Peter said, "this is pretty easy. All we gotta do is sit here!"

"Yep!" Micky agreed. This was their fourth day working the job and they really didn't have to do anything but sit there. Their shift was from 7 pm shortly before closing till 3 am when two other guards came to relieve them. Once the museum closed at 9 pm, the place was dead quiet until their relief came in. Micky was finding it slightly boring and wished he had something more than a few books and a checkers board. He'd lost to Peter too many times to count, and he'd read all the books he'd brought and even a few of Peters, which were surprisingly more intellectually based than Micky would have guessed. He knew he shouldn't be surprised because he knew Peter's stupid act was just a gag that made the rest of them laugh; Peter was really the smartest out of all four of them.

"What do you think they have back there?" Peter asked, looking curiously at the door.

"I don't know, Pete," Micky answered. "But it must be pretty important to have 24-hour security guarding it." No sooner had Micky said this than they heard a noise from the other side of the door. They both looked at each other questioningly. It had sounded like a bang. Micky wondered if they should go look. Maybe something fell over. After all, there was only one way in there and that was past the two of them.

"Micky?" Peter asked, clearly thinking the same thing.

"You sure no one slipped by while I was in the bathroom?" Micky asked, even though he already knew the answer. Peter wouldn't have slacked off like that. Peter vigorously shook his head no.

"No one is in there, Micky," Peter affirmed.

"Maybe if we just took a peek to make sure," Micky said nervously. Was there a window their boss forgot to tell them about that maybe someone could slip through? Micky and Peter both paused at the door, both afraid to open it to peek. They couldn't afford to lose this job. They could lose it if something had been stolen on their watch. But if it was just something falling, that wasn't their fault and peeking in when they were told not to go in there could get them fired, too.

They both jumped when they heard a woman screaming from the other side however. There was someone in there! Micky quickly fumbled with the keys and unlocked the door. When he threw it open, he saw the room filled with large and small crates and tables lined with various items. Some were very shiny, others looked old and worn. But Micky's attention was brought to two men standing over a woman lying on the floor. The men were each pointing a gun at her. How had 3 people gotten in here!? Micky didn't have time to think about it however as the men whirled on the boys at the sound of the door opening.

"Who are…" one of the men started. The woman took advantage of the distraction, jumped up and kicked the men from behind while their backs were turned. They both cried out and tumbled to the ground; their guns skittered across the floor. The two men quickly got up and one of them lunged for Micky and Peter while the other lunged toward the woman. The woman quickly spun around and landed a kick to the stomach of the man lunging towards her and then did an amazing acrobatic flip over him as he doubled over in pain to land another kick to the back of the head of the man coming after Micky and Peter. Micky blinked as both men now groaned in pain and fell to the floor with a loud thud. This woman had taken them both out with amazing acrobatics that took less than two seconds. Where did she learn how to fight like that? Micky didn't have time to question, however, as the curator of the museum came barreling in the room.

"What the…" he sputtered upon seeing the men sprawled on the ground in pain.

"Mr. Manfred," the woman said to the curator sounding very surprised. "I thought you went home."

"I could say the same for you," his eyes narrowed a bit at her.

"I stayed a little behind," she answered then pointed to two crates behind her. "These men came out of those crates. I don't know how long they were in there, but they pointed their guns at me. I screamed and these guards came in and saved me." As she said this, she walked over to Micky and gave him a pat on the back as though to congratulate him. Micky wondered why she was giving them credit for knocking out the two men.

"Is that so?" Mr. Manfred asked.

"We heard a crashing noise," Peter said, clearly as confused as Micky was.

"And then a scream and came in to see what was going on," Micky finished. "We didn't know anyone was in here."

"I got here this morning and haven't left," the woman offered. "The other guards must have thought I left with the rest of the crew."

"Well," Mr. Manfred said, cutting off any further discussion. "Then let's get the police called. These men were obviously here to steal something. Tork, go call the police."

"Yes sir!" Peter answered and scurried off.

"Are you hurt?" the curator asked the woman.

"No," she answered. "I may have a bruise in the morning, but they didn't hurt me too badly. It could have been much worse though." She now turned to Micky and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Thank you, security guard."

"Uh…" Micky stammered. He still wasn't sure why she was giving him the credit. Sure he and Peter had distracted the guards allowing her to take them down, but he had a feeling she would have been fine either way. "Micky Dolenz. My name is Micky Dolenz."

"Thank you, Micky Dolenz," she said with a beautiful smile. Micky felt himself blush a little. Now that things had settled down, he was able to get a good look at her. She had long, silky brown hair and sparkling green eyes. The purple blouse and jeans she wore showed off her beautiful figure. Micky was struck by her beauty as she looked in his eyes with a twinkle in her own.

"Yes, Mr. Dolenz," Mr. Manfred said, snapping Micky back to the present. "Good work." Peter came back in the room and notified them that the police were on their way. "You gentleman can go home for the rest of the day. I will be here cleaning up this mess with the police."

"Yes sir," Micky and Peter both said. They were both very tired as it was already approaching midnight, so they quickly ducked out of the room. Micky paused at the door to get one last look at the woman as she began picking things up off the floor that had fallen. Peter had to pull on his arm to get him to leave the rest of the way.

"If I didn't know better," Peter said teasingly when they got out to the car, "I'd say you and Davy switched bodies." Micky laughed. Was he really that love-struck? They always picked on Davy for his ability to fall in love at first sight with almost every girl they came across. Micky didn't realize that this time, he'd done it. When they got back to the pad, Mike and Davy looked up in surprise at them. Davy quickly grabbed something off the table and ran off into his bedroom with it.

"What was that?" Micky asked, laughing a little at his nimble friend, but still curious as to why Davy dashed so quickly away.

"Nothing," Mike answered shuffling something under a stack of magazines on the table. "Nothing. What was what? I don't know what you mean. What are you guys doing home early?" Micky nearly busted out laughing. Mike was a terrible liar. They were both hiding something from them. Micky looked at Peter who was biting his lower lip to keep himself from laughing, too.

"We had an exciting day at work," Peter said, sitting down in one of the chairs in the living room. "Two burglars snuck into the museum basement in crates and tried to rob this woman at gunpoint down there. She pulled some awesome ninja moves on them and knocked them out though. The curator sent us home after calling the police."

"Wow. What were they trying to steal?"

"I don't know," Micky answered, sitting in another chair. "All the artifacts looked really old. Couldn't tell what they were. Most of them were still covered in dirt and mud." He tried sneaking a look at what Mike had stuffed under the magazines, but Mike caught him and lounged backwards putting his feet on the stack and blocking Micky's view.

"Hey, mates!" Davy said as he exited his room as though he were surprised to see them and hadn't just dashed off to hide something in his room. "You're home early!" Micky really wanted to know what the two of them were hiding, but decided to try and tackle it later. He knew they were too on guard to try and trick them into saying something now. Instead he let Peter retell the story of what happened that night at the museum. Mike yawned once Peter had finished retelling his story and said he was headed off to bed, quickly gathering the magazines and whatever he was hiding off the table so Micky couldn't peek. Davy followed him saying that they had brought home leftover pizza if he and Peter wanted some. Micky was more hungry than he was tired, so he decided to warm some up before heading to bed himself.

"What do you think they are hiding from us?" Micky asked Peter as he handed him a slice.

"Hiding?" Peter repeated. "I don't know what you mean." Peter grabbed the pizza and dashed off to his own room, leaving Micky standing in the living room dumbfounded. So Peter was in on it, whatever it was. Micky briefly stood there, pondering what it could possibly be. But he was too tired to think about it too deeply. He shrugged his shoulders in resignation and went to bed. He'd figure it out in the morning.

That night he had a weird dream. He dreamt of sand, lots of sand, and men in hooded robes chanting around a stone table. And it wasn't the kind of chant you'd find on a cereal box. Then a girl screamed. He jerked awake so violently he tumbled right out of his bed and found he was covered in sweat. That was the last time he'd eat pizza right before bed. Shaking his head to try and clear out the weird dream he stood up and crossed over to his dresser to get some fresh clothing. When he opened his door to walk to the shower, he jumped when he discovered Mike on the other side. He jumped too.

"Don't do that," Micky said flatly, his hand hovering over his heart that was now beating much faster.

"Sorry," Mike said. "I heard a thump. Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Micky answered. "I had a weird dream and fell outta bed."

"Is it hot in there or something?" Mike asked, looking at the sweat dripping off Micky's face.

"Not really, but I would like to take a shower," Micky answered hoping Mike would get the hint and move out of his way.

"Oh, right," Mike responded and walked down to the living room where Peter and Davy were sword fighting with very dull butter knives. Davy landed a good fake jab at Peter's stomach and Peter faked a very dramatic death. Micky laughed with his friends before excusing himself to the shower.

Once he was out of the shower, Mike had made breakfast for all of them. It wasn't much; just four bowls of Rice Krispies and toast, but Micky didn't argue. This was their typical breakfast lately as they were all broke. However, halfway through breakfast, Peter decided to use his spoon as a catapult and flung a piece of cereal at Micky. Micky laughed, faked that he'd been hit and returned fire.

"Come on guys!" Mike sighed, "You're wasting food!" Micky and Peter just laughed, but went back to eating. As Davy gathered the bowls up and started to wash them, a knock sounded on their door. Peter got up shoving the last bit of toast in his mouth and walked over to the door. He opened the hatch on the door to see who it was and turned around grinning at Micky.

"Micky, you've got a visitor," Peter smiled and winked. Micky furrowed his brow wondering what Peter was talking about, but didn't have to wait long. Peter opened the door to reveal the girl from the museum waiting there. She was wearing the same clothes she had been the night before, which made Micky wonder if she'd even gone home.

"Hi," she said with a very sweet smile.

"Hi," Peter said. "Come on in." Peter shut the door behind her and gestured for her to sit down in the living room. "What brings you here…sorry, I don't think you told us your name."

"I didn't," she said. "I'm sorry, a lot happened last night. I'm Isis Moore. I'm a grad student working on identifying those artifacts."

"Peter Tork," Peter said, offering his hand to shake it in introduction. "That's Micky Dolenz." He gestured to Micky, who for some reason found it very hard to come up with any words to say. Suddenly he knew how Peter had felt around Valleri.

"I know," she said, smiling at Micky. "He told me last night."

"Oh," Peter continued, "Well these are our friends Mike Nesmith and Davy Jones."

"Nice to meet you two," she said with a smile and a slight nod. "I'm very sorry to just drop in like this, but I…well, I was wondering if I could talk to you, Micky."

"Talk?" Micky asked, finally able to speak at least one word. At least he didn't say crayon.

"Yes, see, how do I say this…" she trailed off. She seemed very nervous. "Well, I know what those men were after. They were after a particular artifact that is worth a lot to a certain people and…well…I sort of slipped it in your pocket at the museum."

"You what?" Davy, Mike and Peter all asked in unison.

"Why?" Micky asked.

"Well, this might sound very strange and a little absurd, but I think the curator was the one who sent the men to get it."

"Why would the curator do that?" Davy asked.

"Yeah, if he wanted it, couldn't he just go down there and take it since he is the curator?" Mike reasoned. "Why would he need to send goons to steal it?"

"He can't just take it," Isis explained. "It's not technically the museums property. None of those artifacts are owned by anyone yet. They won't be until they have been fully identified and catalogued. Then they will be studied further before being possibly donated to a museum. The only reason the artifacts are being stored there is because the lab we normally work at is under repairs. The only two people who could have snuck those men in those crates in order to have them jump out and attack me would be the curator and the archeologist that led the expedition, but no archeologist is going to steal artifacts he dug up. Plus he's a good friend of the family and I know he wouldn't ever do anything to hurt anyone else."

"But why would he do that when guards were on duty?" Peter asked. "Surely he would have thought we would have caught them."

"Honestly, I don't think he knew I was going to be there. And I think he thought you were a little more…daft than you actually are."

"Well that's rude," Peter said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean any offense by it."

"Well it's not like you were the one who thought we were daft," Micky said, finally regaining his voice. "Why exactly did you give us credit for knocking those guys out?"

"Well, honestly, I didn't want him to know what I could do. And I used it as an excuse to get close enough to you to slip the artifact in your pocket. I knew he wouldn't think to check your pockets like he might have mine."

"Oh," Micky said, slightly disappointed now. The kiss on the cheek she had given him had just been a ruse.

"How exactly did you do that anyway?" Peter asked. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone move like that. Except in the movies."

"Well, I was raised a very small village in England where there wasn't much for anyone to do, so I learned how to fight. Seemed a reasonable enough thing to do at the time to keep from dying of boredom."

"Yeah, England can be boring in certain places," Davy agreed. "What are you going to do with the artifact if the curator wants to steal it? You can't bring it back to the museum. He'll just try and steal it again, won't he?"

"Maybe you should tell the police," Mike suggested.

"No, they'll never believe me," she responded. "I'm just a college student. I have no proof it was him. I can give it to the archeologist who can put it somewhere it will be safe until it's analyzed."

"Ok then," Micky said pushing himself up from the table. "I'll go get it. What pocket did you put it in?" Micky really couldn't believe someone had slipped something in his pocket without him noticing. It must have been very small and very light.

"Your right pants pocket," she replied. Micky nodded and ran up the stairs two at a time to his room and grabbed his pants from the dirty clothes pile he had on the floor next to his hamper. When he shoved his hand in the pocket of his pants, he felt a small item. When he pulled it out, he realized it was an amulet about the size of his palm. It was really beautiful. It looked like a human eye with a blue stone as the outline and pearl inlay for the background. Micky recognized it as an ancient Egyptian symbol, but couldn't remember what it meant.

As he held it in his hand, he began to feel a little dizzy. He felt as though the room were spinning all around him and reached his hand out quickly to the wall to steady himself, but missed and knocked over a lamp causing it to fall to the floor and shatter the bulb. Micky felt like someone kicked him in the stomach and stumbled around a little, trying to find his bed to sit down, but the room was spinning and he couldn't see it very well. Why was he so dizzy? He tried reaching for his bed to sit down until the dizzy spell passed, but missed and almost fell to the floor. He felt someone grab him and stop him from falling while someone else took the amulet from his hand. He was guided over to sit on his bed by whoever had caught him, but the dizzy spell was already fading away.

"Micky!" he looked up and the room stopped spinning so he could see Mike's worried face looking at him. "What happened? Are you ok?"

"We heard a crash," Peter added.

"You killed your lamp," Davy said.

"Micky?" Mike repeated. Micky saw Isis standing off to the side with the amulet in her hand with an equally worried expression.

"I'm fine," he said, the dizziness completely gone now. "I guess I didn't sleep well or something. Stood up too fast and got really dizzy for a second."

"Are you sure?" Mike asked.

"You looked more than a little dizzy," Peter added.

"Yeah," Micky answered, standing up for emphasis. "I'm fine now. It's gone." He smiled at his friends to let him know he was ok.

"Well, if you're sure you're ok, I should go," Isis said softly. "I should get this to Mr. Williams. He's the archeologist in charge of the artifacts. He'll keep it safe."

"Maybe you shouldn't go alone," Mike said. "If people are trying to steal that, they may try and attack you again."

"Thank you, Mr. Nesmith," she started.

"Mike," he interrupted. "Call me Mike."

"Thank you, Mike, but I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, we kinda saw that last night," Micky said. "But so did those goons. If they woke up and told whoever sent them what you did, they may send more men. Stronger men. Better to have strength in numbers. We'll go with you." She seemed to think about it for a moment, but when she realized they weren't going to budge on escorting her, she relented.

"Alright, I sort of walked here anyway," she said shrugging her shoulders. She put the artifact in her pocket and walked downstairs. The boys followed her and led her out to their red Pontiac GTO. Once she gave Mike an address, he started the car and drove off.

"What is that thing?" Micky asked. "It's Egyptian, right?"

"Yeah," she replied taking it out of her pocket to inspect it further. "It's called a Wadjet or "Eye of Horus". It's supposed to bring protection and good health. There are a lot of myths surrounding it, but according to one, the god Osiris ruled over the land of Egypt as their king, but Seth, his brother, became jealous and killed him taking over his throne. Osiris's son Horus decided to avenge his father and killed Seth, taking back the throne. But in the battle, he lost an eye. Seth broke the eye up in pieces and scattered it across Egypt. Once it was found it was reassembled by Thoth and given back to Horus, who then gave it to his father bringing him back to life. The Egyptians considered this eye to be very sacred and a powerful symbol of protection and that it could even bring the dead back to life. When they cut into the eye during the mummification process, it damaged the body and because they thought the body had to be intact in the afterlife, they'd often place one of these eyes over the cut to protect it. Each piece of the eye is said to represent a different sense. There are six pieces total, sight, smell, hearing, taste, touch, and thought."

"Those are very common though, aren't they?" Peter asked. "Why would someone be trying to steal that one when they are so common?"

"They didn't usually wear amulets like this. They usually wore chest plates called pectorals. Having amulets like this is rare; most amulets were scarabs. The eye was mostly used in art or to place with mummies. This was also found among artifacts belonging to a high priest who was said to be able to see into the future and control minds."

"You sure know a lot about this kind of stuff," Davy said.

"It's sort of my passion," she smiled. "I've been studying ancient Egyptian mythology since I was a kid."

They pulled up to a very large, very old looking house. It gave Micky the creeps looking at it. It reminded him of a haunted house. He half expected an old butler with an English accent to answer the door when they knocked, but no one answered.

"That's odd," Isis said. "I told him I was coming by today. He said he'd be here all day." Isis reached for the doorknob and turned it. Even the doorknob squeaked like in a haunted house. Micky heard Peter let out a little whimper. "Mr. Williams?" she called as she slowly walked in.

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" Mike asked.

"It's ok," she replied. "Like I said, he's a family friend. I've known him my whole life. His door is always open to me." Walking through the house was even weirder than standing outside it. There were old artifacts everywhere. It wouldn't have been so bad if the place hadn't been so dark, dusty, and the floor boards didn't creek every time someone stepped on them.

"Oh no!" Isis cried out and ran into a side room. "Mr. Williams!" When Micky peered in, he saw a man lying on the floor, clearly dead. Isis knelt by his side and began crying. The four boys walked into the room, not really knowing what to do. Isis looked at the dead man's hand which seemed to be clutching something. She carefully pulled a piece of paper from his hand and flattened it out.

"What do you think happened?" Davy asked.

"They must have come looking for it," Isis said. Micky walked over and knelt beside her. The paper in her hand said 'It's up to you. Protect it.' She quickly crumpled it up as if she didn't want him to see it. It sounded very weird to Micky though. Why would it be up to her? Couldn't she just go to the cops?

"We should call the police," Mike said.

"There's a phone in the hallway," Isis said. Micky sat next to Isis while they waited for the police to come. No one said anything the whole time they waited. But Micky couldn't stop his mind from racing. There was so much happening. It didn't seem plausible that people would kill an archeologist for a trinket. No matter how old or rare it may have been. But maybe he was just naive. After all, look at all the problems the Monkees had gotten into over the past two years. But he couldn't help but think there was something more going on. Something that Isis wasn't telling them. He just didn't know what.


	2. Attack

Author's Note: Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 2: Attacked

When the cops arrived, Mike and Davy left to greet them and show them into the side room where Mr. Williams lay. Micky wondered how exactly this man died. Was he murdered, or did he just have a heart attack or something? Micky didn't see any obvious sign that told him how this man had died. There was no blood or any injuries. He looked to be approaching 80, but still had an incredibly athletic body. Isis stood up and stuffed the note Mr. Williams had written in her pocket as Mike and Davy led the police into the room.

"What happened here?" One of them asked as another man who looked to be a coroner knelt by the body, examining it to make sure he was dead.

"I don't know," Isis said. "We just found him like this. I have no idea what happened. I told him I was coming over and when he didn't answer the door, I let myself in. I've known him since I was a baby and he's always welcomed me in here. Then I found him. Just like this."

"Was he ill at all?"

"I don't think so," Isis answered. "I really don't know how this could have happened. I'm really sorry, but I am incredibly tired. I stayed up all night at work, and now with this…I really want to go home and sleep." The cops looked at her suspiciously. Micky briefly wondered why she wasn't bringing up the men who were trying to steal the amulet.

"We will do what we can to figure out what happened here," another officer said. "Can we get your information so we can contact you in the future we have any further questions?" Isis nodded and wrote down her information for him.

"Please let me know as soon as you find out what happened," Isis said, trying to appease their suspicion. They nodded in agreement and Isis walked out of the room with the boys following her. Once they got out to the car, the boys sat there staring at her.

"Why did you not tell them about the amulet?" Peter asked.

"Well, because technically I stole it when I slipped it in Micky's pocket," she answered. "If I told them about it, I could be thrown in jail for a very long time."

"Yeah, but you stole it to keep the curator from stealing it!" Davy exclaimed.

"That's sort of splitting hairs. Besides, I told you, I have no proof of that. I'm a college student; he's a museum curator. It's my word against his."

"You said the only people who could have put those crates in that room with the goons in it were the curator and Mr. Williams, right?" Mike reasoned. "Well, isn't that enough to investigate him if you point that out?"

"No, he's a little smarter than that. He'll try and pin it on Mr. Williams. Especially now that he's dead and can't defend himself."

"Why would Mr. Williams steal it?" Micky asked, agreeing with the others. "It's an artifact from his own dig."

"He wouldn't, but the cops don't know that. Mr. Manfred will think of some way to paint Mr. Williams in a bad light just to save his own skin." They all sat in silence. She had a point.

"What do we do now?" Mike asked.

"Take me home," Isis said. "You aren't involved in this. I need to shower and change. And sleep. I'll figure something out."

"You sort of involved us when you slipped that amulet in my pocket," Micky argued.

"Well, now I'm un-involving you," she said. "I don't want you getting into trouble on my behalf. Mike, please take me home. Head straight, and then turn right at the first fork." The boys all exchanged looks, but decided not to argue it right now. Mike followed her directions and within twenty minutes, they had arrived at Isis's house. Micky leapt out of the car and started walking with Isis towards her front door.

"Let me at least walk you inside," Micky said at her confused look.

"Alright," she sighed. Micky was scrambling to try and find a way to convince her to let them help, but was coming up empty so far. She just seemed so stubborn. Micky waved to his friends in the car saying he'd be right back and followed her to her front door. When she opened it, he followed her inside. "Ok, I'm home. You can go home now."

"Not so fast," Micky said. "How do you know there's not someone in here waiting for you to get here?" He was grasping for anything now.

"I suppose I don't unless I check," she smiled at him. Somehow he thought she found this humorous. She set her keys and purse down on a table in the hallway and began to walk the rest of the way into her house. The walls were lined with shelves and each shelf held about half a dozen rocks. Micky walked over to the nearest shelf and looked. He'd heard about people collecting rocks, but he always thought they would be more spectacular than the collection she had. The rocks all looked very plain to him. On the shelf he was looking at sat 6 different rocks. The first was a black rock that almost looked like glass. Two looked like sponges because they were so full of holes, one gray and the other a very dark brown. A fourth rock was black with a few holes in it and a couple spots full of green crystals. Another was white with several black flecks. The last one was very light gray with only a couple of shiny dark red flecks in it.

"Wow," Micky said. "You have an awful lot of rocks." Isis smiled and chuckled a little.

"Of course I do," she answered. "I'm majoring in geoarcheology."

"What's that?"

"A geologist at archeological digs," she said with a smile, now looking very excited, much like Peter did when he talked about his music. "I'll reconstruct the geology of the area through the millennia which will help the archeologists get a better picture of what they're looking at. This wall holds all my igneous rocks. Over there is a collection of fossils, those are sedimentary, and those are metamorphic. I've been collecting them since I was twelve. Wanna know what these are?" She pointed at the rocks Micky was looking at.

"Sure," he answered. This might be a good stall to give him time to figure out how to convince her to let them help.

"This is obsidian," she said pointing at the first one. "It's volcanic glass. Cools incredibly fast, forming a glassy texture. These are scoria and pumice. Both come from lava that was incredibly gaseous forming all those holes as they cooled and solidified. The holes are ways for the gas to escape. The different colors signify the amount of amount of silica present in the lava as it cooled. This is basalt; your basic lava flow. The green flakes are a mineral called olivine, otherwise known as the gemstone peridot. This is granodiorite; a type of granite. Basically forms when a magma chamber cools. The last one is rhyolite which comes from very explosive volcanoes. See those red gems? Those are garnets."

"Wow," came a voice from down the hall. "That was incredibly boring." Both whirled around to see a man standing in the hallway with a gun pointed at them. Micky really hadn't wanted to be right about someone being in her house; he had just wanted to stall for time to come up with a plan. Which he still hadn't done, but that seemed pretty moot now anyway.

"Who are you?" Isis asked, her voice strong and cold. She didn't seem very afraid.

"Does that really matter?" he sneered. "Give me the amulet. We know you have it."

"We?" Micky asked wondering if there were more men in the house.

"Shut it, fool," the guy spat. "Give me the amulet, sweetheart."

"First, don't you _ever_ call me 'sweetheart'," Isis spat back. "Second, I really don't see a compelling reason why I should do anything you tell me."

"If you don't, your friends outside might have some problems, _sweetheart_," the man laughed. He clearly thought it was fun to antagonize Isis. Micky's heart sank though. His friends were in trouble. He had no idea how many men were outside or what had happened to his friends. He suddenly wished he had encouraged them to come in with them.

"I told you not to call me that," Isis said. She still seemed very cool and collected; Micky was terrified. With lightning quick moves that mirrored what she had done in the basement of the museum, she leapt into the air and grabbed a hanging light fixture swinging towards the man with her feet outstretched. She grabbed his hand holding the gun between her feet and twisted, causing him to cry out in pain and drop his gun. She let go of the light fixture, landed in a crouched position and swung her leg out to hook behind his and knocking him to the ground. Once his head hit the ground, he gasped in pain and closed his eyes. He'd passed out. She did this all so fast, neither Micky nor the man had time to react.

"Uh…" Micky sputtered, too stunned to actually speak.

"Peek out that window," she told him, ignoring his shock. "Very carefully. Don't let anyone see you. I need to know what's going on with your friends and how many men are out there."

"Right," Micky said and quickly snuck over to the window. He knelt down below the window and peeked between a crack in the curtain. There were four men surrounding the Monkeemobile, all with guns. He could see Mike, Davy and Peter all inside the car holding very still. He breathed a small sigh of relief. At least they weren't hurt; yet. He turned back to where Isis had been, but she wasn't there anymore. He walked down a hallway and saw her rummaging in her room and throwing things in a large duffel bag sitting on her bed.

"Um…there are four goons surrounding the guys in the car," Micky told her. She didn't even look up at him; she just kept stuffing things into the bag. He couldn't tell exactly what she was stuffing in there, but it looked like books, candles, and other strange objects. But she wasn't putting any clothes in there.

"Are they hurt?" she asked.

"Not yet, but I don't see how two of us can get the drop on four guys."

"You underestimate me, Micky," she smiled at him as she stuffed one last book in the bag and zipped it up. She turned to her dresser and picked up what looked like a very large knife in an old leather sheath. Carefully she slipped it in her back pocket and walked over to where Micky was standing, still very terrified, but trying not to show it.

"I can tell you have some definite skills, don't get me wrong, but all four of those men have guns."

"And that's why you're going to distract them for me."

"Distract them?" Micky thought she was crazy. He was very likely to get himself or his friends shot.

"Yes. Distract them. You wait at the door for my signal, and then run. They'll chase you."

"Or shoot me," Micky gulped.

"Not if you're fast enough," she leaned forward and placed a very soft kiss on his lips. Micky felt a slight tingle at her touch and somehow a small amount of fear left. It took him a second to realize she had left the room already.

"Wait," he said as he ran back into the hallway to catch up to her. "You didn't tell me what your signal was."

"Simple," she smiled at him, pulling the bag over her shoulder. It was an ironically sweet smile considering what they were talking about. "The signal is going to be my knocking out as many as I can. Whoever's left will think you did it and chase you. You have to remember to run fast. And not straight. Dodge around and make them follow you."

"Right," he said. She turned and pulled on a rope hanging from the ceiling that pulled a ladder down leading to an attic. He watched her ascend the ladder before heading back over to the window. One hand hovered over the doorknob, ready to yank it open and run for his life. And his friends' lives. He didn't have to wait long before two of the men suddenly dropped to the ground. Micky couldn't see what had caused this, but took this as the sign. He yanked the door open and ran out of the house. He briefly looked over his shoulder to see the two remaining men aim their guns at him. With a yelp, he quickly darted around the side of the house, thinking they wouldn't be able to shoot him and would chase him to try again. It worked; he heard one of them yell at the other to go after Micky. He glanced over his shoulder again and saw one of the goons round the corner. Micky quickly realized that he was about to run face first into a fence and quickly leapt up to try and climb it. He knew that this was making him a sitting duck and tried to scramble up as quickly as possible. When he heard a thumping noise behind him, he turned and saw the goon had fallen to the ground-unconscious. Isis was standing above him with a triumphant look on her face. Micky jumped down from the fence and walked over to her.

"Three down, one to go," she said. They peered around the corner and saw the last goon standing at the car still. He looked very nervous. She motioned for Micky to lean against the side of the house and for him to stay quiet. He watched curiously as she rolled the unconscious goon so that he was in view of the fourth and final one. She quickly picked up a branch that had fallen on the ground and waited. A few seconds later, the fourth goon rounded the corner and Isis swung the branch like a bat. As soon as the branch made contact with his head, the fourth goon fell to the ground on top of his friend.

"Wow," Micky breathed.

"Come on," she said as she ran to the car, picking up the duffel bag Micky hadn't realized she'd dropped on the ground. When they got to the car, Davy and Peter were hanging out the window staring at the two men lying passed out on the ground. Mike had gotten out of the car and was kneeling next to them.

"You guys ok?" Micky asked when they got to the car.

"Yeah," Mike answered standing up. "Just really confused. What just happened?"

"I'll explain in the car," Isis said, opening the door and throwing the duffel bag across the seat. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to be here when they wake up. Nor can I really explain any of this to the cops." She ducked into the car without waiting for a response. Mike looked at Micky as though he'd get an explanation from him. Micky just shrugged and followed her into the car. He really didn't know much more than Mike about what had just happened. Mike shook his head and got behind the driver's seat again.

"Am I going somewhere in particular?" Mike asked when he started the car.

"No," Isis answered. "Go wherever you want. I just can't be here anymore. I'll figure out where I'm going to go later."

"You keep talking as if you're in this alone," Micky said.

"I am."

"Is that why I just ran around the playing distraction for you?"

"No, you only did that so I could save your friends. If you had listened to me from the beginning none of you would have been here; and none of you would have been in any trouble."

"So you would have taken on five guys at once?"

"Probably not," she admitted, "but I would have been able to run without having to worry about anyone else getting hurt."

"Wanna explain what is going on here?" Mike interrupted. "You can't seriously tell me people are still trying to steal that amulet! I mean, things seem to be a lot more complicated than that. They killed a man for it, and now they're trying to kill you for it."

"Actually, they _are_ after it," Micky said. "The goon in the house told us to give him the amulet."

"I told you," Isis added. "It's incredibly rare and very valuable."

"Why is that piece worth more than the other artifacts you found?" Peter asked, also skeptical.

"It's complicated," she replied. "You wouldn't understand. Just know that they cannot get their hands on this."

"Ok, how about telling me how you single-handedly took out 5 men," Micky asked. "The moves you pulled were straight out of an action movie! I mean, swinging on a ceiling lamp like that? I don't even think James Bond can move that fast."

"I told you, I learned how to fight when I was a kid in England."

"Why don't you have an accent?" Davy asked. "And you can't say it faded. I've lived here 4 years and still have mine."

"You all ask way too many questions."

"We just want to know the truth," Peter said.

"And what makes you think I'm lying?"

"Let's see," Mike said holding up a finger to keep count, "the dead man."

"The nonexistent accent," Davy added.

"The goons trying to kill you," Peter supplied.

"And the wonder woman moves," Micky completed. Isis sat there, almost looking defeated.

"The goons killed Mr. Williams to try and get the artifact," she said, sounding very annoyed. "Now they're trying to kill me for it. It's very valuable and I can't really explain why because it's very complicated. I _did_ live in England for a few years and started to learn to fight there, but I moved around a lot when I was a kid because my dad was an archeologist, too. I enjoyed it so much that I kept learning different fighting styles in each country I lived in. I took the first two goons out with this double sling-shot." She pulled a cloth slingshot out of her pocket. It had two pouches instead of one. "I learned how to use this when I was 10 in Egypt. They used it a lot in warfare in ancient times and the design is very similar. You line up the shots and if you hit the right spot on the back of someone's neck, you can pinch a nerve and render them unconscious. It was luck that they were standing just the right distance apart where I could line the shots up right and hit them both at the same time."

"Your father let a 10-year old learn how to knock someone out?" Peter asked.

"They wouldn't let me come to the digs that often, so I learned that in my spare time."

"Again, there are better things a 10-year old should be learning." Peter was against violence, even though they sometimes had to use it to get themselves out of trouble. Isis sighed and put the slingshot back in her pocket.

"Perhaps, but if I hadn't learned it, where do you think you'd all be?" No one answered. They all knew she had a point. "I jumped out of the attic when I saw the third goon round the corner and try to shoot you. That wasn't that hard. I made sure he cushioned my fall. And then I swung a tree branch in the face of the last one. That'll knock anyone out."

"So what now?" Micky asked.

"I'll just have to run from them until they're stopped."

"Seems like a lot of hassle to protect one artifact," Mike said, again touching on the shared thought they all had that this artifact was more than what she was telling them.

"Like I said," she responded, now very annoyed. "I can't let it fall into their hands. I will handle this on my own. You guys don't need to worry about me anymore."

"Really?" Mike said, completely flabbergasted. "Four men with guns surround me in my car and tell me to sit still and shut up while another points a gun at you and Micky and you think I shouldn't be worried?"

"I told you I can take care of myself. I think I just proved that."

"No one is denying you can kick some serious butt," Micky said, "but what if they come after us thinking we know something?"

"Why would they do that?"

"It's happened before," Davy said. "A lot."

"We seem to get kidnapped or held at gunpoint or have someone trying to kill us at least once a week," Peter added. "Still haven't figured out why."

"So do you need me to protect you?" she scoffed.

"We didn't say that," Mike said. "We've gotten into a lot of trouble, but we've obviously gotten out of it, too. What we're trying to say is that we're involved now whether you want us to be or not, so we need to look out for each other." Mike pulled down the street that led to their house, which Isis must have realized because she suddenly got very uncomfortable and began shifting in her seat like she was going to bolt the minute they stopped.

"Mike's right," Micky said, placing a hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to stay. "Those men may think we have the amulet and come after us. So let us help you figure out what to do with this thing so we can get them off our backs." He looked into her eyes as he said this. He could see a hint of fear in them, but mostly all he saw was determination. Finally, as they pulled up to the house and Mike turned the car off, her eyes softened a little and she relented.

"Fine," she sighed. "I'm too tired to fight you anymore."

"Did you really stay at the museum all night?" Peter asked as they all climbed out of the car.

"Yeah," she answered. "I wanted to clean up the mess and keep an eye on the curator. Then I snuck down to his office to look up your address."

"You must be really exhausted!" Davy said. "It's already nearing noon!"

"I am," she replied with a yawn.

"Well, why don't you come in, shower, get something to eat and crash inside?" Mike said. "I don't think we have to worry about any attacks for a while." She nodded and followed him and the rest of the Monkees into their pad. She showered very quickly and came back out wearing a new pair of jeans and a red blouse.

"I didn't see you pack any clothes in that bag," Micky said curiously.

"I packed a few at the very bottom," she replied. Mike handed her a plate with a sandwich he had made for her. They had already eaten their lunches. She gratefully accepted and as soon as she was done, Mike showed her to his room so she could get a little sleep. When he walked out, he shut the door very quietly behind him saying that she had fallen asleep as soon as her head had touched the pillow.


	3. Bait

Author's Note: Really don't know when Mickey Mouse started talking, but I always thought it funny when Micky Dolenz talked in a really high pitched voice that reminds me of Mickey Mouse. Not sure if that's what he was going for or not, but oh well. This is fanfic. Doesn't have to be 100% accurate, right? Lol!

Chapter 3: Bait

Micky and his friends sat around their kitchen table trying to get a clear picture of what was going on. The task was hard, however, because Isis was clearly holding back information. They had been sitting there for 4 hours already and hadn't come up with anything concrete. Peter was right; the amulet was a very common symbol in Ancient Egypt, even if it wasn't commonly used as an amulet. If the owner is what had made the artifact rare and valuable, why were none of the other artifacts found with it being targeted by the thieves? Shouldn't they be just as valuable and rare?

"I think we just need to try and make her explain," Mike said. "I think she's underestimating us. It can't be that complicated."

"Apparently it is," Davy said. "We can't figure it out."

"That's because there's something she's not telling us," Peter said.

"I think there's a lot she's not telling us," Micky said. "You didn't see the knife she put in her pocket. It was huge and the fact it had an old leather sheath. How often do you see that?"

"Well with her fighting skills, that doesn't exactly surprise me," Mike said. "You should see some of the old gun collections people have back home."

"She collects rocks, not knives," Micky said.

"Rocks?" Davy asked.

"Yeah, she said she wants to be a geologist working at archeological digs," Micky answered. "Her living room was literally filled wall to wall with shelves full of rocks."

"Collecting rocks and extreme fighting skills don't really go hand in hand," Peter mused. "I agree with Micky, I think there's a lot she's not telling us."

"Without knowing the whole story, I don't think we can even begin to formulate a plan that keeps us all safe," Mike said. "The only thing we can do right now is try and prove the curator is the one trying to steal it, then give that proof to the police so they can arrest him. But I don't really know how to do that."

"We could rummage through his office and see if we can find any evidence," Peter suggested.

"I doubt he'd keep any evidence in his office," Davy pointed out.

"It might be worth a shot to look," Mike argued. "It's all we've got to go on." Davy was about to say something else when a knock sounded at their door.

"Mailman," Micky said absently.

"It's not the mailman," Mike argued as he crossed the room to answer the door. "He's already dropped the mail off today while we were gone." Micky was confused. Why did he say mailman? But all four Monkees were shocked when Mike opened the door revealing the mailman.

"Hey, guys," he said. "I forgot to give you one more letter. Sorry about that!" He handed Mike an envelope, turned with a smile and wave and left.

"Micky, how did you know the mailman was at the door?" Peter asked.

"I have no idea!" Micky exclaimed. "Lucky guess?"

"Lucky guess?!" Davy repeated. "That wasn't a lucky guess!"

"I don't see how it could have been anything else," Mike said, looking puzzled himself. The conversation dropped when Isis came out of Mike's bedroom looking a little more refreshed.

"You can go back to sleep," Mike said. "You only slept four hours."

"I'm fine," she said. "I need to figure out my next move anyway."

"Our," Micky corrected. "Our next move."

"I was thinking of looking for evidence in the curator's office," Peter offered. Mike jumped up from his chair and motioned for Isis to sit in it while he hoisted himself up to sit on the counter.

"That won't work," Isis said sitting down. "I've already checked his office and found nothing. He rarely uses it anyway."

"Then what do you suggest?" Mike asked.

"_I_ suggest that _I_ take this to another safe place," Isis said, purposely emphasizing the word 'I'.

"You don't think they're just gonna keep coming after it?"

"They're not ever going to stop," Isis admitted.

"Unless we stop them somehow. I still say our best bet is to find proof and turn it over to the police."

"That'll stop them for now," Isis admitted.

"What do you mean, 'for now'?" Micky asked.

"People have been robbing tombs for centuries," Isis said. "This isn't much different. People will always want to steal this kind of stuff." The four exchanged looks with each other, again knowing there was something different about this amulet.

"Why won't you tell us why these people _really_ want that thing?" Mike asked.

"It's complicated," Isis answered.

"We're smarter than you think," Micky pushed.

"I don't doubt your aptitude," Isis replied. "It's just really complicated and I don't want to go into it. I want to keep you as uninvolved with this as possible. Which is becoming really, really difficult at this rate." She stood up and began to walk over to the bay window overlooking the ocean.

"Why?" Peter asked. "The more we know, the better we can help."

"Don't you get it, yet?" she turned on them, exasperated. "I don't want you to help me!"

"Well that's not very nice," Davy muttered.

"I'm sorry," Isis sighed. "It's not that I don't want your help, it's that I don't want you getting hurt. Mr. Williams has already died over this, and you've already been held at gunpoint."

"So it's better for you to go it alone?" Mike asked. "Even with your fighting skills, how long do you think you'd last? How many men are they going to send after you next? I think they have an idea of what you're capable of now." The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of the telephone.

"Who in the world could that be?" Davy asked as though it were rude of someone to be calling them in the middle of the day.

"Mr. Babbit," Micky answered, surprising himself.

"Why would Mr. Babbit be calling us?" Davy asked as Mike walked over to the phone. "He always comes over to yell at us."

"Hello?" Mike said into the receiver. "Mr. Babbit?!" Mike gave Micky a stunned look, as did Peter and Davy.

"You did it again!" Peter said.

"You can't say that was a lucky guess, too!" Davy added.

"What do you mean?" Isis spoke up.

"He correctly said the mailman was at the door before we even opened it," Peter answered.

"Oh," Isis muttered. "How did you know who was at the door and on the phone?"

"I don't know!" Micky was really starting to freak out. Davy was right; he could have chalked once up to a lucky guess, but not two!

"It's like he's psychic!" Peter said.

"I'm not psychic!" Micky exclaimed. "I guess I just am on a lucky streak." He knew even as he said it that it was highly unlikely. But so was being a psychic. He'd never predicted anything before.

"What did Mr. Babbit want?" Davy asked seeing Mike hang up the phone.

"He was asking us for rent," Mike answered. "What else? Said he would have come over, but he's out of town at the moment. Told us to have rent when he gets back next week. And Peter, Micky is not psychic. There's no such thing."

"Well sure there is!" Peter argued. "What about that tea lady?"

"She was a fraud, Peter, and you know it."

"Well, yeah, but there are other people who read tea leaves."

"There's no such thing as psychics, Peter. Micky just had two lucky guesses." Micky knew from his tone of voice that he was more trying to convince himself than Peter. Micky knew that Mike honestly didn't believe in any of that kind of stuff, but with everything they had seen and been through over the past few years, Micky was ready to believe just about anything.

"Do we have any aspirin?" Micky asked, suddenly feeling a pull at his temples. He didn't get headaches that often, but still knew when they were coming on and wanted to stop this one before it got bad.

"I think so," Mike answered walking over to a nearby cupboard and opening it to look inside. "Actually we're out." He held up an empty bottle.

"Why would someone put an empty bottle back in the cupboard?" Micky asked.

"Sorry," Peter said. "I put it there to remind myself to buy another bottle, but I guess I forgot."

"That's ok, Pete," Davy said. Micky rubbed his temples to try and make the headache go away. It had come up really fast like someone had smacked him in the head. Isis walked over to him and gently shooed his hands away from his head. She placed her fingers on either side of his temples and began rubbing in small circles. Slowly he felt the headache subside.

"Thanks," he said when the headache had completely subsided. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"India," she replied.

"Ok," Mike said, "we need to re-focus on the issue at hand. How do we stop these guys trying to steal the amulet?"

"If we can't find evidence in the curator's office, why don't we try his house?" Peter suggested.

"We don't know where he lives, Peter," Micky pointed out.

"Isis found our address on our employment records," Peter said. "Why don't we sneak in there and look up his records? We go to work in a few hours anyway."

"Might be a good idea," Mike agreed.

"It's all we've got for now," Davy said. "Mike and I have the night off, so when you find his address you can call us and we'll go check it out."

"And what do you plan to do if he's home?" Isis asked.

"Devise a way to get him out," Mike answered simply. Over the next several hours, the five of them continued to work out the details of their plan. Soon it was approaching 7 pm and Micky and Peter excused themselves to get changed into their uniforms. Mike and Davy packed up everything they would need for their end of the plan.

* * *

Peter followed closely behind Micky as they walked into the museum, trying to act completely normal. Doing this kind of stuff always made Peter nervous, so acting normal was really hard for him. They greeted the two guards that had been sitting outside the door waiting for them to arrive. After an exchange of pleasantries, the two guards left and Micky and Peter took their seats. They knew they'd have to wait until after the museum closed before they could start any sneaking around, so they settled in with playing a game of checkers. Peter usually beat Micky very easily, but this time his mind wasn't really paying attention and Micky won 3 times in a row before they decided they were bored of it.

They had each brought new sets of books with them and had picked one up to begin reading when they heard the sound of a child crying. They looked at each other and then down the hallway where the sound was coming from. A second later a little girl who looked to be around 5 years old rounded the corner in pigtails and a little red dress. She looked terrified and was sobbing uncontrollably. Micky and Peter both jumped up and walked over to the little girl. Micky knelt down so he was somewhat level with her.

"Hey, princess," Micky said softly. "What's the matter?"

"I…can't…find…my…mommy!" she cried through sobs.

"Well, that's no good," Peter said. "Where did you see her last?"

"Upstairs…I was…looking…at the…dinos and…I got scared!"

"Oh, they aren't anything to be afraid of," Micky said. "They aren't alive. They can't hurt you. What did you do when you got scared?"

"I ran away…then I got…lost…and…and…and…I fell down…the stairs...and my foot hurts!"

"Let's take a look here," Micky said as he picked her up and carried her over to the chair he had sat in. She was still crying now, but she was starting to stop. Peter's heart went out to the little girl. This was a very large museum and at that age things can get pretty scary especially if you get lost. Micky took her foot in his hand and Peter saw it was swelling a bit. She had probably twisted it when she fell.

"What's your name, sweetie?" Peter asked.

"Emily," she answered.

"Well, Emily, my name is Micky and this is Peter," Micky said.

"Micky? Like Mickey Mouse?" She asked. Micky laughed.

"You bet!" he said in his best Mickey Mouse voice which caused the little girl to giggle a little.

"What's your mom's name?" Peter asked.

"Laura Todd," she said. She wasn't really crying that much anymore.

"Ok, Emily, Peter needs to stay down here, but why don't you and I go try and find your mom?" Micky said.

"It hurts to walk," she almost started crying again.

"Who said anything about walking?" Micky picked her up and tossed her in the air a little with a spin. When he caught her, he put her on his shoulders. "Let's go Emily!" he said imitating Mickey Mouse again.

"Now I'm as big as those dinos!" Emily laughed again and Peter smiled.

"Yep!" Peter said. "Now they should be afraid of YOU!" Emily laughed some more and let out a little growl. Peter faked being scared which caused Emily to laugh even harder. She wasn't crying anymore; all her fear was gone.

"I'll be back, Pete," Micky said. "Soon as Dino Emily here and I find her mom."

"Sure," Peter smiled. He watched Micky walk down the hall like a monster with Emily on his shoulders roaring and laughed. Micky really was good with kids and he had no doubt that they'd find her mom. Peter sat back down in the chair and began to read his book. He hadn't gotten past one paragraph when he heard voices. At first he thought they were coming from down the hall, but he soon realized they were coming through a vent in the wall. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he recognized the curator's voice, so he quietly slinked down the hall towards the vent until he could make out what they were saying.

"You are nothing but a bunch of idiots!" Mr. Manfred was saying. "How hard is it to steal one stupid amulet!?"

"The girl got the drop on us, sir," another man said. "She's really strong and really fast."

"One girl taking on five idiots," Mr. Manfred said skeptically. "She's just a girl!"

"She had friends, sir," the man said.

"You mean the idiot guards I hired?! Those two are dumber than a box of rocks!"

"There are four of them helping her, sir. The two guards and their two roommates."

"Well, take care of them."

"And the girl?"

"No. Bring me the girl alive. I would like to have a few words with her. The two idiots will be here alone all night tonight. Once the museum closes, take care of the two of them. Then go to their house and finish the other two off and bring me the girl."

"I don't think she's going to come easily, sir."

"I really don't care."

"Might I make a suggestion?"

"What?"

"What if we used the two guards as bait to lure her and the other two into a trap here?"

"That actually might work better. Do it." He didn't hear anything else and assumed the two had moved away from the vent. At least that settled any doubt Peter may have had about Mr. Manfred's guilt. But what was he going to do now? They were planning on capturing Peter and Micky and using them as bait to lure Isis, Mike and Davy. He could call the pad and warn them of the plan, but how was he going to warn Micky? He was off somewhere in the museum looking for that girl's mother. And that also meant Peter was all alone. He wasn't sure he could escape being captured if he was outnumbered. He could leave and try and find Micky, but that would let Mr. Manfred know that he was on to him and who knew what Mr. Manfred would do then. After all, you really only needed one worm on your hook when you went fishing. Not two.

But then again, if he left, found Micky and the two of them searched the curator's office for his address, then left to join Mike and the others, there would be strength in numbers and they'd have a much better chance of escaping the situation without injury. They could also be caught while searching the curator's office if Peter was even able to find Micky in time. There were so many things that could go wrong with any plan Peter thought of, so he decided to try his luck finding Micky. At least he could possibly have a better chance of staying safe if he were surrounded by people upstairs. Micky would be, too.

No sooner had he decided to find Micky than he heard two sets of footsteps approaching the hallway, however. There was only one way in and one way out and if the people walking towards him meant Peter harm, which was a very good possibility because no one else really came down here, there was no escape. The only thing Peter could think to do was duck into the room they were supposed to be guarding. He quickly unlocked the door and ducked inside. Then he quickly scanned the room looking for a place to hide in case the person entered the room. There was a nearby crate that was open, so Peter decided to jump inside it and pull the lid closed over his head. Seconds after he ducked into the box, he heard someone unlocking the door to the room.

"Check upstairs," came the voice of the man Peter had heard in the vent. "I'll check in here." Peter listened as he heard someone shuffle away. It was now Peter and one goon. Peter knew if the goon opened the crate and found him, there was no room to try and fight back. Peter shifted a little to peer through a crack in the crate and he saw a very large man walking around the room carefully. Peter slowly opened the lid to the crate. He was trying not to make any noises so he could rush toward the door. He quietly set the lid of the crate down on the floor and climbed out. The man was walking further away from Peter and still had his back to him. Once he was out of the crate, Peter made a mad dash for the door which was only feet away from him. He heard the man whirl around at the sound of Peter's footsteps, but Peter had already opened the door before the man could react.

Once he was outside, he moved one of the chairs in front of the door very quickly hoping that when the man came out in pursuit, he wouldn't see the chair and trip. Peter then tore down the hallway and up the stairs to the rest of the museum. Sure enough, he heard a loud crashing noise behind him as the man had indeed tripped and fallen over the chair. He knew the man would just get back up, but Peter hoped it would slow him down enough to where he could find Micky. Once he reached the top of the stairs, Peter ripped open the door leading the main part of the museum. It was full of people wandering around and looking at the different displays. He quickly scanned the crowd, hoping to find Micky easily. But he wasn't that lucky. Knowing running around up here would only draw unwanted attention, he walked as quickly as he thought he could and still go relatively unnoticed. Or at least as unnoticed as he could be in a security guards uniform.

He made his way through three separate areas of the museum before finding Micky. He still had the little girl on his shoulders, but was talking with a woman who looked to have been crying. He assumed this woman was the little girl's mother, and was pleased for the little girl and for the fact they wouldn't have to waste precious time looking for her. He quickly strode over to where they were standing and smiled at Micky, who looked thoroughly confused and worried upon seeing him.

"Hi, Emily!" Peter said, trying not to sound scared. "Is this your mom?"

"Yep!" Emily replied, giggling happily. "Mommy's gonna take me for ice cream!"

"That's great! Make sure you get plenty of sprinkles!"

"I will, thanks!" Micky took the little girl off his shoulders and handed her to her mother.

"Thank you so much for taking care of her!" the mother said. "What are your names? I'd like to do something to thank you."

"Oh, that's not necessary," Peter said, glancing quickly over his shoulder looking for anyone who may not belong there. He wasn't entirely sure what the man looked like as he had only seen the man's back. "Just doing our jobs. Come on, Micky, we're needed in the curator's office now." Peter slowly began walking towards the exit, hoping Micky would take the hint and follow him. He watched Micky nod, then turn to Emily with a big smile.

"No more running away, now, okay?" he said to her. "Remember there's nothing to be afraid of. And take care of that foot for me." With one last smile, he turned and followed Peter. Peter picked up the pace as they wound their way through the museum. "What happened?" Micky asked them when they had gotten to an area where they could talk freely. There were still people around, but they were spread out so Micky and Peter could talk freely without being overheard as long as they were quiet.

"I heard Mr. Manfred through a vent," Peter explained. "He sent someone to capture us so he could use us as bait to lure Isis, Mike and Davy into a trap. I had to run. I had no choice."

"It's ok, Pete," Micky answered. "Let's just get into that office and find whatever we can for now, meet up with the guys and get this over with." They made it quickly to the curator's office without incident. Wondering if the curator would be in there, Peter and Micky leaned their ears against the door to listen. There wasn't a sound on the other side. Peter tried the door, and it opened without problem. Sure enough, no one was inside. Micky quickly crossed to the desk and grabbed a phone while Peter barricaded the door to prevent the curator from coming in and catching them. If they ran into problems, there was a window they could escape out of.

"I'll call the guys at the pad," Micky said already dialing the number. "You look in the files." Peter nodded and started opening drawers and rifling through them as quickly as possible. He heard Micky tell Mike what was going on. Peter quickly found the file he was looking for and brought it to Micky who recited the address to Mike over the phone. They agreed they would all meet there. No sooner had Micky hung up the phone than the heard the doorknob jiggle. The curator was coming back! Micky and Peter exchanged frightened glances at each other and scrambled towards the window. They tried to escape the window at the same time and got stuck. Peter sighed. Hadn't they learned by now to do this kind of stuff one at a time? Finally they squeezed out, and Micky dove through the window by himself, turning around to help Peter out it before running towards the Monkeemobile.


	4. Breaking and Entering

Author's Note: Not much. Just read and review! Thanks!

Chapter 4: Breaking and Entering

Mike sped through the streets on his dirt bike with Isis sitting directly behind him and Davy on a second bike following him. Isis had her arms wrapped around his stomach holding tightly as Mike took the corners very quickly. He wove through traffic trying to get to the curators house as fast as he could. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before the curator figured out what they were up to and came after them. He didn't want Micky and Peter to be alone when that happened. He frequently checked the mirrors on his bike to make sure that Davy was safely behind him and that no one else was following them.

He rounded one last corner and pulled onto the street he needed and saw Davy turn the corner behind him. The street was empty and Mike wondered where Micky and Peter were. The museum was only a few minutes away and Mike knew they should have arrived well before Mike and Davy, even though Mike and Davy had been riding very fast. He pulled up in front of the large two-story house they needed and looked around for Micky and Peter. He didn't even see the Monkeemobile. He jumped when Peter and Micky jumped up from behind a bush. They had changed out of their security uniforms and into regular clothes now.

"Mike!" Peter said.

"Don't do that," Mike said.

"Why were you hiding behind the bushes?" Davy asked.

"The curator was right behind us when we crawled out the window at the museum," Micky explained. "Wasn't sure if he was going to follow us or not, so we parked the next street over and hid in the bushes."

"Good idea," Mike said. "We should hide the bikes in the bushes in case he comes home." Davy and Mike both moved the bikes to the spot Peter and Micky had been hiding.

"Peter found an open window we can go in," Micky said once the bikes were sufficiently hidden. "We should hurry though. I don't know if he knows what we're up to or not, but he's definitely on to us."

"Then let's split up," Mike said as they walked toward the window Peter found. It was a window into the kitchen over the sink. "Davy and I search down stairs, you Isis and Peter can go upstairs. Keep an ear out for any cars coming."

"Right," Davy, Micky, and Peter all said together.

"Let's go, Towering Texan," Micky added climbing through the window.

"Move fast and move quiet, Los Angeles Leopard," Mike smiled, knowing Micky was trying to lighten the mood. He climbed in right after Micky.

"No meowing this time," Davy said with a laugh when he came in.

"Where's the fun in that, Manchester Marauder?" Micky asked. Isis crawled in behind Davy, followed by Peter.

"Should anyone run into trouble, then you can meow, how's that?" Mike laughed. "That'll be the signal."

"Got it," Micky laughed. "Connecticut Counterspy and I will be upstairs." Peter and Isis laughed and followed Micky up the stairs. Mike shook his head with a chuckle.

"Davy, you check over there," Mike pointed to the living room. Mike didn't think he'd really find much of anything in the kitchen, but he looked anyway. The cupboards only held food, plates, and cups. Nothing out of the ordinary. The drawers were just as ordinary with silverware and other utensils. Mike moved on to the living room where Davy was searching.

"Find anything?" Davy asked him.

"No, you?" Mike answered.

"No."

"Let's check over here," Mike suggested pointing through an open door. "Looks like an office. Might find something in there." Davy nodded and they both entered the office space. Mike went towards the desk and began looking at the papers stacked upon it. They all appeared to be files pertaining to the museum, however, so he started opening drawers. The drawers were full of pens, highlighters, and various other items that one would expect to find in a desk. One of the drawers looked a little off to Mike, however and he paid it special attention. After a few moments of looking at it, he realized it wasn't as deep as it should be. He thumped around on the bottom until he found a latch. He pulled up and found a large mailing envelope stuffed inside the false bottom.

Mike opened the folder and saw several pictures inside along with lots of paperwork. The papers were mostly names and other personal information for people Mike didn't know. Most of the pictures were mug shots of men, some of whom Mike recognized as having been the men who had surrounded their car that morning. The rest of the pictures were pictures of Mr. Williams and what looked to be members of his crew. There was one picture of the amulet. This was the proof they were looking for.

"Davy!" he exclaimed. "We got it!" Davy ran over to him excitedly. Their excitement was short lived, however, as they heard a car pulling up. Davy and Mike exchanged looks with each other before scrambling out the office to the window in the living room with Mike shoving the contents of the folder back inside and shoved the folder in the waist of his pants against his back. They saw a man pull up to the driveway in the car. Mike assumed this was the curator. Mike and Davy scrambled to the bottom of the stairs to try and get the others to come downstairs so they could leave.

"Micky! Peter! Isis!" Davy hissed up the stairs. "He's back! We've got the evidence! Let's go!" Mike and Davy waited for a few seconds for a response, but none came. They didn't even hear any footsteps. They didn't want to shout too loudly in case the curator heard them outside, but that also meant that they probably weren't heard. They heard the car door closing from outside and knew they didn't have much time. The two dashed up the stairs as quickly as they could and rounded a corner just as the curator put his keys in the door to unlock it. The man closed the door behind him and Mike heard him take a few footsteps then stop short. Mike suddenly remembered he hadn't closed the desk drawer.

"Who's here?" the curator called. "I know someone's here. When I find you, I'll kill you." Davy whimpered a little bit, tugging on Mike's sleeve.

"What do we do, Mike?" he asked, clearly terrified.

"Calm down, Davy," Mike whispered, as much trying to calm himself as he was Davy. "We gotta find the others and get out of here." Mike slowly walked toward the nearest room and peeked inside, but found nothing. He listened to the footsteps downstairs to make sure they stayed down there. Upon trying the second door, he found Peter, who jumped nearly three feet in the air when Mike opened the door. He opened his mouth to let out a yelp, but Mike rushed over and clamped his hand over his mouth.

"Ssh!" Mike hushed. "The curator came back. He's downstairs. Where are Micky and Isis?"

"They're in the room down the hall," Peter whispered back. When they exited the room, Peter pointed across the hall to another door. The door was open and Mike could indeed see Micky and Isis rummaging around. The only problem was that they would have to pass the stairs to get to the room and they ran the risk of the curator seeing them. Mike was about to dash across and risk it when they heard the curator begin to ascend the stairs.

"Now what?" Davy asked.

"Micky!" Mike tried hissing, but he couldn't be too loud or the curator would hear him. Unfortunately that also meant Micky couldn't hear him. Peter tried dancing around and waving his arms to try and get Micky's attention but it was no use. The curator had reached the top of the stairs by now, and the three boys had to duck around a corner to avoid being seen. But the curator had already spotted the open door where Micky and Isis where and began walking towards it. Mike, Davy, and Peter all peered around the corner and watched as the curator kicked the door open. He heard Micky yelp out of fear.

"We gotta do something," Peter whispered as the curator pulled a gun from his pocket.

"I know! I'm thinking!" Mike answered. He began looking around for a way to help Micky and Isis, but the long hallway between the boys and the curator was bare.

"Isis," the curator sneered. "Well this makes things much easier for me. You have two choices, darling. Give me the amulet, or say goodbye to fuzzy."

"Fuzzy?" Micky said irritably.

"Shut it," Mr. Manfred snapped. "Isis, you have a decision to make. And don't even try any of your little moves. I'm smarter and faster than my men."

"I don't doubt that," Isis answered very calmly. "Doesn't mean I still can't take you."

"You can try, but are you willing to risk that? If you fail, not only do I kill you, but I kill your friend over here."

"If you kill me, you'll never find the amulet."

"I'm willing to bet you have it on you. Once I kill you, all I have to do is search your body for it."

"That's a pretty high stakes bet, don't you think? Are you sure you're willing to do it?"

"You're saying you don't have it?"

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't. I may have left it in the care of a friend. I may still have it in my pocket. The important question is: are you willing to make that bet?" Mr. Manfred stood there in silence for a few moments as though he were weighing his options.

"I think you have it," Mr. Manfred sneered after a while. "Because I think I know who you really are. And that means you'd never leave it in someone else's care. I just never thought they'd send a woman to do a man's job. But that doesn't matter. I'll just kill you both. Starting with fuzzy." Mike felt Davy and Peter both grip his shirt tighter as they heard Mr. Manfred's gun cock. Any plan Mike may have had to be sneaky and remain unseen left him. The only thing he could think now is to save Micky. He ran across the hall, not thinking about the fact that there was too much space between him and Mr. Manfred. He heard the shot ring out as he was only halfway down the hall. Mike's stomach dropped at the sound of it. But as soon as the shot rang out, Mr. Manfred fell through the floor. Mike skidded to a stop just before he himself fell through the hole in the floor.

"Wha-?" He sputtered. He looked up at Micky and Isis, both standing there completely unharmed. Micky looked just as shocked as Mike felt, but Isis stood there looking completely unfazed; as though nothing had happened.

"What just happened?" Peter asked behind him.

"Nothing," Isis said, snapping into action and grabbing Micky by the wrist and pulling him from the room. "Let's go!"

"What do you mean 'nothing'?" Mike asked as she and Micky ran past them. Mike took one last glimpse at the hole in the floor and saw the curator lying in a crumpled heap below them. The floor looked really sturdy to Mike, so he was confused as how suddenly a hole could have just appeared allowing him to fall through. He knew he couldn't stick around though as Peter and Davy had already started running down the stairs. Once they were outside, Isis turned back on all them.

"I'll go with Micky and Peter in the car," she said. "You two take the bikes back. Split up to make it harder for him to follow us." She barely finished speaking before she was dragging Micky through the street to where he had told them the car was. Peter shrugged and ran off after them. Mike and Davy ran to the bushes and jumped on the bikes.

The whole ride home, Mike couldn't stop worrying about his friends. He didn't exactly think splitting up was a good idea, but that was more because he didn't like not knowing if his friends were ok or not. His stomach was in knots the whole way. Finally he turned the corner onto their street and saw Davy just ahead of him and the Monkeemobile turned in behind him a second later. He finally breathed a sigh of relief as he turned off the bike and waited on the front porch with Davy. Peter had been driving the car, and Micky sat in the back seat with Isis. When Peter parked the car, all three got out and the five walked into the pad with Mike closing and locking the door behind them. Locking the house was something they usually never did, which only now struck Mike as odd considering all the times they'd been kidnapped. Sure one of those times was on purpose, sort of, but the Chinese men who had taken Micky in the middle of the night wouldn't have been able to do that if they had locked the door.

"Alright, wanna tell us what the heck happened now?" Peter asked turning on Isis. Micky sank into a chair and was staring off into space.

"What are you talking about?" Isis answered.

"You know darn well what he's talking about!" Davy exclaimed.

"Just when Micky is about to get shot, he's suddenly saved by a hole opening up in a perfectly sturdy floor in just the right spot to swallow the curator?!" Peter exclaimed.

"Coincidence," Isis answered.

"You're crackers!" Davy exclaimed.

"What do you want me to say," Isis sighed. "I magically opened a hole in the floor? Mike said it himself earlier; there's no such thing as magic."

"No, he said there's no such thing as being psychic," Davy corrected.

"Is there a difference? I mean, do you believe in magic?"

"Yes," Peter and Davy both answered.

"No," Mike said. Micky was still and quiet.

"What do you mean 'no', Mike?" Davy asked.

"You know I don't believe in that kind of stuff! It's silly!"

"Silly?" Davy sputtered. "What about when I was turned into a vampire and Micky into the wolfman and we both tried to kill you?"

"Or when Micky lost his voice because of that monkey paw?" Peter added. Mike really didn't have an explanation for any of that.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But there has to be a rational explanation for all that."

"Like what?" Davy asked.

"I don't know, Davy. I still have nightmares about Micky eating my hand."

"That doesn't matter anyway," Peter said ignoring Mike and turning back to Isis. "Now I know for sure there's something you aren't telling us. He said that he knew who you are. What does that mean?"

"I have no idea," Isis said.

"Stop lying to us," Peter snapped. Mike had never seen Peter look angry like this before. "Look, my best friend was almost just shot. I take issue with that. You can't un-involve us from this. These guys are going to come after us no matter how much we know. They were ready to use us as bait back at the museum. And this guy obviously has no qualms about killing people. We are as involved as we can possibly be now. He said they sent a woman to do a man's job. You are way too calm for someone face to face with a gun. Now tell us what's going on now, or we'll solve this whole problem by calling the police and telling them everything we _do_ know, including you stealing the amulet and slipping it in Micky's pocket."

"Alright, alright," Isis sighed. "The artifact _is_ rare and valuable because of its owner. Sort of. He was a high priest named Ramose. The Egyptians worshipped all the gods, but some more than others. Ramose was a priest of Seth, the god of darkness and chaos I told you about earlier."

"The one who killed his brother to steal the throne?" Davy asked.

"Yes," Isis answered. "Ramose went a little far with his worship. He tried finding multiple ways to bring Seth back to the throne and defeat Horus. He was imprisoned, but broke out and went underground so to speak. He began hatching plots to kill multiple priests, thinking it would weaken the powers of the other gods. He was able to kill about 13 high priests before he was stopped."

"I thought high priests were extremely well protected back then," Peter said.

"They were. They were about as protected as the pharaoh's own wives and children were. It was nearly impossible to gain entry into the priests' chambers in the temples."

"So how did he do it?" Mike asked.

"Magic. Peter and Davy are right. Magic is real. All priests had some sort of magical ability. They called it a gift from the gods in thanks for their worship. I'm not saying the gods are real. I don't know. Some priests were more powerful than others. Ramose unfortunately was extremely powerful. The bodyguards tried killing him with spears, tried stabbing him, he was even trampled by a horse, but he wouldn't die. So the high priestess who worshipped Isis, Osiris's wife, decided that Seth must have given him the gift of immortality, so she stopped him by imprisoning his soul. She imprisoned him inside this amulet." She pulled the amulet out of her pocket and set it down on the table.

"What?" Peter asked incredulously.

"She stripped his soul from his body and trapped it inside this amulet. His followers tried to get their hands on the amulet and free him so he could finish what he started and bring about more death and destruction. But the priestess stopped them every time. Her sister was the queen at the time, so the queen deemed that a group of men would protect the amulet from harm. If it were ever broken or destroyed, Ramose's soul would be restored. Over time people discovered the amulet itself had residual powers too. Probably Ramose's power leaking out. As the generations grew, the amulet was always handed down as was the knowledge to keep it safe. The group of protectors grew in size, but eventually, as Egypt began to fall, the amulet was lost. The group of protectors dwindled, but was never lost. Each generation is trained in the old ways in case the amulet was ever found. There were always people trying to find the amulet. Some still wanted to resurrect Ramose, some wanted to use its power."

"So Mr. Manfred wants to do what with it?" Davy asked.

"I don't know exactly, but I know he can't get his hands on it."

"Even if Ramose was immortal, don't you think his body would be dust by now?" Mike asked very skeptical of this story. "If his soul is released, where's it going to go?"

"From what I understand, it can go into any nearby body," Isis answered.

"This is ridiculous. You want me to believe that a 3,000 year old soul is trapped inside that thing?"

"It's probably more like 4,000."

"And how exactly do you know any of this?"

"My name isn't 'Isis' by accident. My father is a descendant of the high priestess who imprisoned him. Which means so am I."

"So you _did_ cause that hole in the floor," Peter said.

"Yes," she answered. "I've been trained never to use my magic in front of others unless absolutely necessary. That's also why I was learning to fight when I was 10. Everyone in my family can do it. Mr. Williams taught me most of what I know how to do."

"You guys really believe this?" Mike asked.

"I do," Micky said, speaking up for the first time since they'd left the curators house. "I…I saw the bullet. It was right in front of my face, but then it just…disappeared."

"I made it change trajectory," Isis said. "I couldn't let you get hurt. I reacted too slowly. He never should have been able to fire that shot."

"Come on, Micky…" Mike started, still refusing to believe any of this. He wasn't really sure why. Peter and Davy had brought up good points with the wolf man and monkey's paw thing.

"Mike, there's no other explanation that makes sense," Peter argued. "We've seen a lot of crazy things over the last few years, and you're questioning this? I mean I sold my soul to the devil! We met Attila the Hun and Billy the Kid!"

"You did what?" Isis asked.

"I didn't do it on purpose," Peter explained. "He sold me a harp on credit. I didn't read the contract."

"But don't worry," Davy added, "We won Peter's soul back."

"I believe her, Mike," Micky said. "The night she slipped that thing into my pocket I had a really weird dream. All I remember is hooded figures chanting, sand, and a woman screaming."

"That's also how Micky was able to predict the mailman at the door and your landlord on the phone," Isis added. "I guess when I slipped the amulet in his pocket he started picking up some of the magic in it. It should be worn off by now though. I didn't really think that was going to happen. My dad warned me that if someone spent too much time in close contact with it, it could do that, but I thought he meant more like days in contact with it. He said that there were rumors that direct contact with it can cause a lot of physical problems, too. But no one ever really knew for sure because it hasn't been seen for thousands of years until it was accidentally dug up. One of the students on the trip dug it up and showed it to Mr. Williams. It was catalogued because he didn't immediately recognize it. It wasn't until I handled it that I felt its power and knew what it was. But by then it was too late. We had already listed it as an artifact and couldn't abscond with it."

"You've had it in your pocket all day and it hasn't done anything to you," Davy pointed out.

"It doesn't affect me the same way because I'm descended from the person who made it, so to speak. Micky, making those predictions probably gave you that headache and is what made you so dizzy when you went to get it out of your pocket. I'm really sorry about that. I didn't think it would be that bad."

"It's ok," Micky said. "I don't blame you for that."

"Ok," Mike said, "suppose all this is true. What do we do now?"

"Well, we still have to stop Mr. Manfred," Peter said. "We still need evidence to give the police."

"We got evidence!" Davy exclaimed. Mike remembered the folder of evidence he had shoved in the waist of his pants and pulled it out to lay on the table for everyone to see.

"These are the men he sent after us," Peter said looking at the mug shots. "These must be their names and contact information."

"What's this?" Micky asked, pulling a photocopy of what looked to be an old piece of parchment paper out of the file that Mike hadn't seen earlier. The writing on the parchment in the photocopy was in hieroglyphics so Mike had no idea what they were. Isis pulled the paper from Micky's hand.

"It's a spell," she said. "It releases the soul from the amulet. Guess we know what he wants to do with it now."

"Why would there be a spell?" Davy asked. "You said it just needed to get broken."

"Well, that is one way to do it," she answered. "But you have almost no control over the soul when you release it that way. If you release it through a spell, you can control where it goes and have some sort of pull on it. He could at any time put the soul back in the amulet, thereby almost blackmailing Ramose into doing what he wants."

"Wonder what his ultimate plan is then," Peter mused.

"I have no idea," Isis answered.

"We can turn this stuff over to the police for now," Mike said. "Let him get arrested; then the amulet will be safe."

"For now," Isis said. "He's not the only one who wants this. There have always been people chasing it."

"So what do you do?" Peter asked.

"I don't know now. It's already been listed as an artifact pulled from a dig. If it goes missing, they'll investigate its disappearance. But if it goes on display in a museum somewhere, it'll be a sitting duck. My people have ways of hiding it, but they'd have to bring it back to Egypt. Trying to smuggle a stolen artifact out of the country is next to impossible."

"Well, let's deal with one issue at a time," Mike said. "Let's get this to the police."

"And tell them what, exactly?" Isis asked. "That we broke into this man's house to steal evidence that he was trying to steal an artifact that I already stole?"

"Well when you put it that way…" Mike said.

"Why didn't you bring that up earlier?" Davy asked. "You know, maybe before Micky got shot at?"

"I didn't think we'd find anything, honestly," Isis answered. "And I wanted you off my back."

"I have an idea," Micky said. "We make a replica of that, set it up so that Mr. Manfred steals the replica, then go to the police. They'll search him and find the amulet. Case closed. Then it'll be easier to smuggle that wherever it needs to go because they won't be looking for it."

"That could work," Isis said. "But how are we going to make a good enough replica?"

"Peter." Micky answered.

"What?" Peter asked.

"That painting you made a replica of at that other museum was so good that the curator couldn't tell the difference when we tried to tell him it was being replaced."

"That was a painting, Micky, not a piece of jewelry."

"Yeah but it shouldn't be too hard to make a replica of that," Micky said. Peter reached for the artifact, apparently forgetting what happened to Micky when he touched it, but Isis slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch it!" she exclaimed.

"How can I replicate that if I can't even figure out what it's made of?"

"I can help you with that. You touch it and who knows what's going to happen. I already feel bad for what happened to Micky; I won't be responsible for something like that happening to you."

"I wasn't really hurt," Micky argued. "There's nothing to feel bad for. It was just a quick dizzy spell."

"It never should have happened," Isis answered.

"Ok, so buy me a new lamp and we'll be even." Isis smiled a little. "But she's right. No one else touches that but her." Mike heard a loud crashing noise. All four men jumped from the sudden noise. Mike looked around and saw the glass in the bay window had broken as if someone had thrown something through it. Sure enough, Mr. Manfred was standing on the other side.

"Mr. Manfred!" Mike, Davy and Peter yelled. "Run!"

"Isis!" Micky yelled, jumping up and running to her. It was only then that Mike noticed she had fallen to the ground. They didn't have much time to do anything as Mr. Manfred came running in the broken window. So much for locking the door. Peter shoved the table across the room so that it cut off Mr. Manfred and he tripped, buying them a few seconds. Mike ran over to help Micky grab Isis from off the ground.

"Peter, get the car ready!" Mike ordered grabbing Isis. Micky and Mike hoisted her up and carried her on either side of them. Micky grabbed the amulet and shoved it quickly in his pocket as Davy kept throwing furniture at Mr. Manfred still trying to slow him down. Once they were outside, Mike was grateful to see Peter had started the car. Micky and Mike helped her in the car before jumping in themselves followed by Davy.

"What happened?" Peter asked as he sped off.

"I don't know…" Mike answered. Just as he said it, however, Isis rolled over into Micky's lap and Mike saw a small knife sticking out of her back.


	5. The Morning

Author's Note: I hope everyone likes my jokes. I don't know if I'm good at comedy, but I know I'm good at action. I took a few jokes from the show that made me laugh and re-hashed them and added a few of my own. Let me know if they're any good or if they're lame. Thanks!

Chapter 5: The Morning

Micky felt sick to his stomach as soon as he saw the knife sticking out of Isis's back. Her face was getting pale as she lost blood. Micky looked up at Mike who went pale out of fear and shock. He heard Davy let out a gasp.

"This is bad," Mike said. "Peter, we have to go to the hospital."

"No!" Isis moaned.

"What do you mean 'no'?" Micky asked alarmed. "You realize you have a knife in your back?"

"Of course I do," she answered weakly. "I don't need a hospital. They can't help."

"She's crackers!" Davy exclaimed.

"No, take me to Mr. Williams' house."

"If we go to the hospital, he'll be arrested for sure!" Peter argued. "Then we don't have to do that other thing!"

"We would still have to figure out how to smuggle it out of the country," Isis moaned. "Please just trust me."

"Isis," Micky started.

"Please," she begged. "I can't explain now. Please."

"Peter, do what she says," Micky relented with a sigh.

"You're crackers, too!" Davy said.

"Davy, please, I can't…" her voice trailed off. She was growing weaker. "Trust me." Finally all four boys relented. None of them were too happy about not taking her to the hospital, but she was begging them and they wanted more to respect her wishes. It didn't really take them long to drive to Mr. Williams' house. Mike had been watching behind them the whole time to make sure that they weren't being followed by the curator, who now seemed bent on killing them. When they pulled up to the house, Micky and Mike carried Isis toward the house. Davy and Peter opened the door for them.

"Lay her on the couch," Mike said leading Micky and the others to the living room. They laid her on her stomach on the couch and she moaned in pain. Micky sat down on the edge of the couch next to her.

"I don't like this," Davy said. "She needs a doctor."

"Go in the library," Isis said, still sounding very weak. "There's a trunk on the floor next to his desk. Bring that in here." Davy and Peter both looked at each other skeptically, but left to get the trunk she asked for.

"We have to take this out," Mike said kneeling down and inspecting the wound. "It doesn't look that bad. The knife actually looks small." Micky noticed that the handle of the knife was indeed rather small, but that didn't mean the blade itself wasn't long. None of them knew how far into her back the knife had penetrated.

"We need to be ready to stop the bleeding," Micky agreed.

"There's a bathroom down the hall," Isis said. Her voice was now so quiet they had to strain to listen. "Should be some towels in there. And a first aid kit."

"I'll go look," Mike said getting up and leaving the room. Micky inspected the wound a little more closely. The handle of the knife looked to be a little less than 3 inches long, which Micky hoped meant that the blade was small too. That meant the wound would be small and could heal faster. The knife had penetrated just under her shoulder blade, which meant the blade very well could have penetrated her lung. Micky tried carefully moving her shirt so he could see the wound better, but the hole in her shirt was small, too. He supposed that was a good sign, however.

"You are going to have to rip my shirt," Isis said softly.

"What?" Micky asked a little flustered.

"If you're going to help me heal, you'll need better access to it. The shirt will get in the way. Rip it." Mike came back in with towels stacked on a small box and a wet washcloth. Peter and Davy were right behind him carrying a large trunk between the two of them. It appeared to be very heavy as the two of them set it down with a loud thunk.

"Why do you need the trunk?" Peter asked.

"Open it," Isis answered.

"It's locked," Davy answered looking at the latch. Micky saw a large lock closed tightly around the latch. Isis simply waved her hand lazily at it, and the lock immediately unlocked itself. "Never mind." Davy muttered.

"There should be a pouch in there," Isis said. "Find it." Davy nodded and started rummaging through the trunk taking out large books and other items.

"Micky, I'm going to pull the knife out," Mike said handing him one of the towels. "Once I do, put as much pressure on it as you can to stop the blood."

"Hang on," Micky said. He wrapped his fingers around the hole in her shirt and pulled causing the hole to get bigger. They could all see the wound better now and there didn't appear to be that much blood coming out. Micky nodded to Mike that he was ready and Mike carefully wrapped his hand around the handle of the knife. Mike took a deep breath as if he were steeling himself before he pulled the knife out. When he did, Isis screamed in pain and Micky's stomach knotted at the sound. He pushed the towel into the wound and put as much pressure on it as he could. He saw her wince at the pressure and wanted to let go, but knew he couldn't. Davy pulled a small pouch out of the trunk triumphantly.

"Found it!" he exclaimed. "It was at the bottom."

"There's a powder in there," Isis said. "Sprinkle it over the wound. It's magic. It'll seal the wound and stop the bleeding. And whatever you do, don't touch the blade of the knife." Davy nodded and handed the bag to Mike. His face said he was too squeamish to do it himself. Peter also looked like he was about to faint. Blood was soaking through the towel and onto Micky's hands.

"Alright, Micky," Mike said as he opened the bag and took a pinch of the powder. Micky pulled the towel away from the wound and nearly fainted himself at the sight of the amount of blood. Peter did faint.

"Peter!" Davy exclaimed and rushed over to try and help him. Mike sprinkled the powder over the wound and Micky watched as the powder solidified over the wound and she stopped bleeding. Peter woke up almost immediately much to Micky's relief.

"He ok?" Mike asked Davy.

"I'm fine," Peter answered for Davy.

"Isis, are you feeling better?" Mike said. "Did it work?"

"Yes," she answered. Already her voice sounded stronger. "Did you find the first aid kit?"

"I found a box with some bandages and stuff," he answered.

"You still need to cover it to keep it from getting infected and to keep the powder from rubbing away," she answered.

"We'll um…" Mike started, suddenly looking very nervous. "We will need to…um…to take your shirt off to do that."

"That's fine," she answered with a slight chuckle, which was unfortunately followed by a wince of pain. "It doesn't bother me. It needs to be done."

"Should we try and find another shirt?" Peter asked.

"I think I still have some clothes stored in the spare room upstairs," Isis answered. "Second room on the right." Davy and Peter nodded and dashed out of the room, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of seeing her without her shirt. So was Micky, to be honest, but he wanted to help Isis more so he stayed sitting by her side on the edge of the couch. Mike looked like he was trying not to turn a bright shade of red as he dug the bandages out of the box he'd found. When he came back over, he knelt down on the floor next to the couch.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked nervously.

"Yes," she answered. "I'm on my stomach anyway, you won't see much but my back." Micky helped Mike very carefully lift her shirt up and over her shoulders. She winced in pain at this action, however. Micky grabbed the wet washcloth that Mike had brought back and started wiping the blood off her back. When it was clean, Mike un-wrapped a gauze pad and a bandage roll. Mike placed the pad gingerly over her wound and she shifted herself so that she could prop herself up on her elbows so that they could wrap the bandage around her. Mike carefully began wrapping the bandage over the pad. Micky noticed his cheeks begin to turn a light shade of red as his arm brushed against her bare stomach. When the bandage was put into place securely, Isis moaned in pain and collapsed back onto the couch. Mike sighed and grabbed a clean towel and draped it over her to keep her covered. He handed another towel to Micky so he could wipe the blood from his hands.

"What happens now?" Mike asked, sinking into a nearby chair.

"I need to sleep," Isis answered.

"Of course," Micky said. He stood up and walked over to where Mike had set the knife.

"Be careful!" Isis exclaimed. Micky froze with his hand hovering over the knife. Davy and Peter walked in with a few different shirts and a blanket they had found.

"Why did you say not to touch the blade?" Mike asked curiously.

"It's poisoned," she answered.

"How do you know that?" Davy asked carrying the shirts over to the couch and draping them across the back.

"I felt it," she answered. "Don't worry. The powder absorbs the poison. That's why I said no hospital. They wouldn't have been able to help with the poison."

"So what should we do with the knife?" Micky asked.

"Touch only the handle. It's only the blade that's poisoned. It's a modification of an old Egyptian weapon. It combines the effectiveness of a poisoned dart with a blade. Wrap it up safely and put it in the trunk. I'll deal with it later." Micky nodded and did as she instructed; careful not to touch the blade. Peter took the blanket and draped it over her before taking the towel off and draping it over the back of the couch.

"Are we sure Mr. Manfred didn't follow us here?" Davy asked peering out the window.

"If he did, he would have attacked by now," Micky said sinking into another chair.

"Unless he's lying in wait," Peter said nervously.

"For what?" Mike asked. "The only one of us that really knows how to fight is down for the count. He can't be waiting too long, or she'll recover and be able to kick his sorry behind."

"I doubt he followed us," Isis said. "Micky's right. He would have attacked by now. Just in case he finds us though, you might want to arm yourselves. There are some old spears in the library."

"I don't like violence," Peter said.

"None of us do, Peter, but we have to defend ourselves somehow," Davy said reluctantly heading back to the library.

"Especially if he's going to be throwing poisoned knives at us," Mike said.

"I just don't think I could use a spear against someone," Peter mused. "I mean, every other time we've gotten into trouble, I've never really hurt anyone. I may have hit someone on the head, but that's about it."

"Peter, there's little box in that trunk with a wadjet painted on it," Isis said. "Inside that box is a bottle of liquid. The liquid is a paralytic. Throw the bottle at someone, it'll smash and the liquid will paralyze them the second it touches them."

"More magic?" Mike asked.

"Yes," she answered. "That's why I said to bring me here. There are ways for you to defend yourselves without me if you need it."

"How long till it wears off?" Peter asked.

"A few hours," she answered. "It won't hurt them. I promise." Peter nodded and began looking for the box in the trunk. It only took him a few moments to find it. He took the box out and placed it on the table and sat in a nearby chair. Davy came in with 4 spears in his hand and handed one to Micky, one to Mike and kept one for himself. The fourth he placed near Peter, just in case.

"Anything else we should know?" Mike asked.

"No," Isis answered. "I should be fine in the morning. Then we can work on Micky's plan. I still think it's our best option for now. Mr. Williams actually has a small collection of stones upstairs that we can use to make a replica of the amulet."

"Ok, get some sleep now," Micky said. "Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, Micky."

"Alright, I'm going to wash my hands."

"There's a bathroom by the staircase." Micky made his way down to the bathroom and stood in front of the sink for a few moments. He never would have imagined anything like this would ever happen to him and his friends. Part of him felt bad for insisting they be involved in this instead of letting Isis deal with things on her own like she'd wanted. But part of him also knew that if his friends hadn't helped her, she'd probably be dead and Mr. Manfred would have the amulet. Micky had no idea what Mr. Manfred wanted to do with the amulet, but knew it was probably something murderous; if not downright apocalyptic.

With a sigh, Micky turned on the faucet. He felt sick to his stomach looking down at his hands. He'd wiped most of the blood off with the towel Mike had given him, but there was still quite a bit of her blood on his hands. He scrubbed his hands 3 times before he felt comfortable enough to call them clean. Once he was back in the living room, Isis was already asleep. Mike, Davy and Peter sat in chairs, not looking at each other or Isis. Micky knew that like him, they were all terrified.

"Maybe we should get some sleep, too," Mike finally said when Micky sat down on the chair closest to Isis.

"Sleep?" Davy asked. "Who can sleep right now when a maniac is trying to kill us?"

"Well, I was thinking we should take shifts," Mike said.

"Who takes the first shift?" Peter asked.

"Draw straws?" Mike asked.

"I always draw the short straw," Davy said.

"I'll do it," Micky said. "I'm not really that tired anyway. I think I've gotten used to being up late from working security. Plus with this…You guys sleep. I'll take first shift."

"Ok, Mick," Mike answered. "Wake me when you feel tired."

"Sure thing, Mike," Micky answered. Although he doubted he would be feeling tired anytime soon. He could still hear the gunshot ringing through his ears. Sure they'd been shot at dozens of times, but none of the other bullets had ever come that close. He could still see it hovering in front of his face as if time had slowed down. At the time, he thought it was just adrenaline causing that effect, but now he wasn't sure. Isis had saved his life, and he wasn't going to sleep until he was sure she was ok. Even if one could have argued that it was her fault he'd been shot at in the first place.

* * *

Sure enough, Micky stayed awake the whole night. He'd walked into the library and wandered around looking for any books that he found interesting and began to read through them. Mr. Williams had a lot of books on archaeology Egypt, rocks and minerals, and various other subjects, so Micky had a lot to choose from. Peter had stayed awake for a few hours with Micky, but Mike and Davy had fallen asleep within half an hour. Peter had retrieved more blankets from a spare room and draped them over their sleeping friends before curling up under one himself with a book on Egyptian jewelry, trying to learn as much as he could before attempting to replicate the amulet.

When Peter finally fell asleep around 5 am, he had nearly finished a book on Egyptian culture. The book was sitting on his chest and Micky watched it rise and fall with Peter's steady breathing. After a few moments, he took the book, set it aside and pulled the blanket further over Peter to help make him more comfortable. Periodically, Micky would check on Isis. She stayed on her stomach, breathing normally all night. A couple of times he pulled back the blanket gingerly to make sure that her bandages were still holding.

When the sun rose, light shined through the window. Micky tried to close the curtains before it woke anyone up, but the cord used to close them was too high for Micky to reach. The light landed on Isis first, making her dark hair shine. She woke up after a few moments, even though Micky tried to stand in front of the window to block out the light. She moaned a little as she woke up. Pushing herself up and blinking from the light, the blanket covering her fell to the floor. Micky picked it up quickly and handed it back to her.

"Thanks," she whispered, pulling the blanket around her.

"How do you feel?" Micky asked.

"Better," she answered. "A little sore still, but otherwise I'm fine. Did you sleep at all?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"The bags under your eyes gave you away." She grabbed one of the shirts Davy had brought down the night before and stood up. She was still a little weak, so she wobbled and started to fall, but Micky caught her.

"Maybe you should lie back down. I'll try and get these curtains closed." But once again, Isis lazily flicked her hand in the directions of the curtains and they all closed, blocking out the sun before it landed on any of his friends.

"I'm fine," she said. "I need to get up and dressed. At least wash my face, even if I don't have the strength to take a full shower. We don't have a lot of time and shouldn't be sitting in one place. He's looking for us, so we need to stay on the move."

"Well, let me help you to the bathroom at least," Micky said.

"Thank you," she held out her arm so Micky could take it and lead her to the bathroom. She was still weak and her knees gave way a few times on the way, but Micky caught her each time. It took them about 15 minutes to get to the bathroom because of this, however.

"Are you sure you're gonna be ok in there?" Micky asked skeptically.

"I'll be fine. I'm not going to gain my strength back by not using it."

"Well, falling and hurting yourself isn't going to help either."

"If it'll make you feel better, you can come in with me."

"I…" Micky did want to go in with her to make sure he could still catch her if she fell. There were a lot of things in there she could easily hit her head on. But he felt himself blush at the thought of going into the bathroom with her.

"It's not like I'm going to take a shower or anything," she said with a little laugh at his un-comfortableness. "And I'll put my shirt on right away. You can close your eyes when I do that, even though you already saw my bra last night."

"It's not like I wanted to see it," Micky defended.

"I never said you did. Are you coming or not?" Micky nodded and helped her the rest of the way into the bathroom. He sat on the toilet seat and closed his eyes once she had braced herself against the counter. After a few seconds, however, he heard her gasp out a little. Micky jumped up and opened his eyes. The blanket was on the floor and Isis was doubled over the counter in pain with her arms in the sleeves of her shirt.

"You ok?" he asked worriedly.

"Shoulder," she hissed painfully. "Can't raise my arm."

"Maybe you should have picked a button up blouse or something instead of a pullover."

"Didn't think about that."

"Want me to get you one?"

"No, I'll just have to deal with it." She tried again, but only got her arm halfway above her head before she hissed in pain again.

"Here, let me help," Micky said. She turned to face him and he slowly raised her arm up enough to where she could slip her head inside it. He could tell it still hurt, but she was trying to push her way through it. Finally he was able to get her shirt on and she moved to take his seat on the toilet. Her breathing was heavy and she leaned her head against the wall. Micky wished there was something more he could do for her. Wished there was a way he could take away her pain. The knowledge that he couldn't, that he'd have to stand there and watch her suffer, broke his heart.

Finally, the pain seemed to subside and she stood back up and leaned on the sink to wash her face. There was a spare toothbrush under the sink as well.

"Did you stay with him often?" Micky asked.

"Not really," she answered. "He wanted to set this up as a safe house, though. In case anything happened; he wanted it to be available to anyone who needed shelter."

"That's nice of him."

"He was that kind of man. He was the sweetest, most gentle man I knew. My father was rougher. He was a good enough man, don't get me wrong. I loved him and he loved me, but he was always more into his work than anything else. He didn't really know how to raise a child on his own. Mr. Williams was like an uncle to me."

"What happened to your mom?"

"I never met her. She died giving birth to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you. My father died a few years ago. Car accident."

"I'm sorry." He felt silly repeating himself, but didn't know what else to really say.

"I got through it. With the help of friends and Mr. Williams." Micky saw a tear form in her eye, but she washed it away with the washcloth she was now using to scrub her face. Micky knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, but he couldn't imagine not being able to grieve over it. He wished that this would all be over soon so she could have the time she needed. He reached out to place his hand on top of hers to offer support once she had dried off her face. She smiled warmly at his touch.

"Let's get back to the living room," Micky said. "Wake the others and figure out our next move." She nodded and held her arm out for him to take once again so he could lead her out to the living room. They moved a little faster this time, as Isis only fell once. She was gaining her strength back slowly, which made Micky happy. When they got into the living room, he helped her sit on the couch. The others were still asleep and Micky hated to wake them, but knew she was right about not staying in one place too long. He walked over to Davy first.

"Davy," he said softly laying one hand on his friends shoulder. "Wake up." Davy groaned a little and rolled over, wanting to stay asleep. "Davy," Micky repeated.

"What?" he moaned.

"Wake up."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Don't wanna," Davy grumbled, but sat up nonetheless. Micky laughed and moved on to Peter.

"Peter," Micky said as he placed his hand on Peter's shoulder now.

"What?" Peter said. "I didn't eat the cookie!"

"What cookie?" Micky laughed. Peter opened his eyes now and sat up.

"Never mind," he answered. "Dream. Giant cookie. It was good."

"So you did eat it?" Isis laughed. Peter smiled sheepishly. Micky chuckled and moved on to Mike. He had barely gotten next to him when Mike jerked awake on his own.

"Save the Texas prairie chicken!" he shouted. Davy, Peter, Micky and Isis all laughed.

"Good morning, Mike," Micky said.

"Morning," Mike answered groggily before the knowledge it was now morning fully sunk it. "Wait, morning?! I thought you were going to wake me hours ago!"

"You said to wake you when I got tired," Micky replied simply, sitting on the couch next to Isis. "I didn't get tired."

"You stayed up all night?" Davy asked.

"Yeah."

"You must be exhausted," Peter said.

"Not that much. I actually feel pretty good."

"How can you feel pretty good after not getting any sleep?" Mike asked.

"Dunno," Micky answered. "Just do. Isis, is it ok if I go make breakfast? I don't really know what Mr. Williams has as far as food."

"Sure," Isis answered. "He should have plenty of stuff in the kitchen." Micky stood up, but immediately fell back down on the couch. Maybe he was more exhausted than he thought.

"Mick?" Mike asked.

"I'm ok," he answered. "Guess I am a bit tired." His head began to throb uncontrollably though. When he tried to move again, he felt as though someone smacked him in the head with a baseball bat and shrieked in pain. Through his closed eyes, he heard all three of his friends jump up to help him.

"Don't," Isis said. "Micky, where's the amulet?" Micky had completely forgotten that he'd put it in his pocket the night before as they made their escape. And it was still there. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. In the back of his head, he heard a laugh. It was a dark, evil laugh that made his blood turn cold.


	6. Guilt

Author's Note: Just normal. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 6: Guilt

Peter's heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he heard Micky scream in pain. He jumped up along with Davy and Mike and rushed to his friend's side. Isis held up a hand, stopping them all in their tracks. She was sitting on the couch next to Micky and she quickly turned toward him. Micky was clutching his head with a look of pure agony on his face. Peter wanted to help his friend, but didn't know what to do.

"Don't," Isis ordered them. "Micky, where is the amulet?" Micky opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. He just continued to clutch his head in pain.

"Micky?" Davy squeaked. "What's happening?"

"Micky, where is the amulet?" Isis asked again. Still Micky couldn't answer.

"I think I saw him put it in his pocket last night when we were trying to escape," Mike said. His voice was lined with worry and fear and Peter could hear a slight cracking in it. Isis dug her hand into Micky's pocket to grab the amulet. When she pulled it out, however, Micky grabbed her wrist and squeezed.

"Micky, stop!" Isis cried out, pain registering on her face.

"Let it go," Micky said. Peter knew it was Micky who said it because his lips moved, but his voice was unrecognizable.

"Oh no," Isis said. Peter lunged forward to try and pry Micky's hand off Isis's wrist. Davy and Mike followed suit, but Micky kicked Peter causing him to fall backwards into his friends and they fell in a tangled mess on the ground. Micky now reached his other hand out and wrapped it around Isis's throat.

"What's happening!?" Davy repeated now much more terrified as they disentangled themselves.

"Peter, the bottle! Use it!" Isis pled.

"I can't!" he answered. He couldn't hurt his friend.

"Peter!" Isis's face was beginning to turn red. Peter knew he had no choice. He grabbed the box that contained the bottle of paralytic in it and threw it at his friend. Instantly, the bottle smashed and Micky let Isis go before going limp. Mike walked over to Micky and carefully inspected him. He seemed to be breathing ok to Peter, but he wasn't moving.

"What did I do?" Peter croaked out near tears.

"Peter, you did what you had to," Mike said trying to calm Peter down.

"He's not hurt, Peter," Isis said, her voice hoarse. "I promise. You helped him. That wasn't Micky."

"Yeah, we figured that one out on our own," Davy said now sounding slightly angry.

"Pete, it's ok," Mike said looking into Peter's eyes. "He looks fine now. Isis, are you ok?"

"I'm fine," she answered rubbing her throat a little. "I will be anyway, once this mess is behind us. He's got quite a grip." Peter couldn't take his eyes off Micky, slumped on the couch like a rag doll. He desperately wanted to cry. He knew Isis and Mike were right; that he did what he had to help both Micky and Isis.

"You said this takes a few hours to wear off?" Mike asked. Peter couldn't understand how Mike could be so calm right now. But he guessed that was a good thing. It meant he could keep a level head and take care of the things that needed to be done.

"Yes," Isis answered, shoving the amulet hastily into her pocket.

"Let's make him comfortable. Davy, throw me that blanket." Davy did as Mike asked and Mike straightened Micky out so that he was lying on the couch on his back with a pillow under his head. Once Mike pulled a blanket over Micky, he slumped in a nearby chair. Peter could now see that Mike was shaking a little. His calm demeanor was only a façade.

"This is all my fault," Isis said burying her face in her hands.

"Don't say that," Davy said.

"I should have taken this from him last night," Isis sounded like she wanted to cry too.

"You were a little preoccupied with other things," Mike said. "Let's just start working on that replica so we can get rid of that thing." Mike's words conveyed the disgust that Peter was feeling towards the amulet. He really wanted nothing more to do with it after seeing what it had just done to his best friend, but knew he had to move forward with their plan. It was the only way to safely get rid of the amulet.

"I have a question," Davy said. "That thing was dug up by a bunch of students, right? I get that you said you're protected from it, but why didn't it do anything to the students who found it?"

"It passed hands so quickly to Mr. Williams," Isis answered. "If they had any side effects, it would have been something like a headache or feeling dizzy, which they would have just attributed to the dry, desert heat. Mr. Williams showed it to me soon after he got it. Once we figured out what it was, he made sure no one else handled it but me. I boxed it up and made sure to mark the box so we would both know which box it was in. Micky spent all night with that in his pocket with no symptoms."

"Unless that's why he didn't sleep," Mike said. "The thing was giving him energy or something."

"Probably," Isis answered. "Davy, can you make that breakfast Micky was talking about? We should all eat. I'm going to head upstairs to try and get the supplies we need to start working on the replica. We should move somewhere after that. We can't stay in one place for too long." Isis stood up and started walking out of the room, but she only made it halfway before her knees buckled out from under her. Mike rushed to her side to keep her from falling.

"Why don't I help you," he said. "You still seem a little weak. Peter, can you keep an eye on Micky?"

"Of course," Peter said. There was no way he was leaving his friends side until he knew Micky was ok. Davy tried smiling at Peter to cheer him up, but Peter didn't feel like smiling back. He sat on the floor next to the couch and took Micky's hand in his to make sure it was still warm. He looked so cold. And dead.

Peter shook his head as though he could shake the thought from it. He refused to allow himself to think that way. He knew Micky was fine. Mike and Isis both told him so. But how did they know? How did they know he wasn't in pain? How did they know he wasn't freaking out because he couldn't move? Or because some 4,000 year old sadistic psychopath had made him hurt someone? They couldn't possibly know any of those things.

"Micky, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm really sorry," Peter said. "You know I would never, ever want to hurt you. And I feel terrible for doing this to you. And if you're scared or anything, you don't have to be because Isis told us that this only lasts a few hours. And she took the amulet from you, so hopefully you won't have any more issues with it. So don't be scared. Everything is going to be ok. We're going to make that replica and stop Mr. Manfred. Then the amulet is going clear across the world, so it won't be anywhere near you ever again." Peter stopped talking momentarily and looked at his friends face. Micky's eyes were closed, so he couldn't see if Micky was responding at all to this, but he felt he had to do this. "I just wish I knew if you were in any pain." Nothing registered in Micky. But Peter hadn't really expected to see any kind of change in him. He was completely paralyzed. Peter knew that if he were in Micky's shoes, he'd be scared, so he continued trying to make him feel more at ease.

"Hey, Micky, remember the time we tried to cheer Mike up when that guy duped him out of 100 bucks for that song? You pretended to be a big shot movie producer? I thought that was funny. You're very good at impressions, you know. I don't know anyone in the world who can do a better James Cagney than you! You'll have to do that for me when you wake up, okay?" Peter went on talking about the funny things they had done over the years. Of course, Peter could go on forever because Peter and Micky always did funny things. He only stopped when he realized Mike and Isis were standing off to the side in the living room listening to him.

"I don't know if he can hear me," Peter said. "Or if he's scared, so I thought I'd try and make him feel relaxed. Even if he can't laugh with me."

"That's great, Peter," Mike said walking over to him after guiding Isis to a chair. "I'm sure he loves it." Mike looked wearily at Micky. Peter knew Mike was having a really hard time dealing with this, too. He suddenly wished that Mike didn't have to always be the responsible one. It was Mike who outsmarted the devil to win Peter's soul back, just by staying calm and speaking from his heart. Peter never realized what kind of burden that put on his shoulders. Peter vowed from here on out to be more responsible for himself so that Mike wouldn't have to be.

"You guys are really close," Isis said. Her face still displayed the guilt she felt.

"We're like brothers," Mike answered. "All four of us. One happy family. Been through too much together not to be."

"If I could trade places with Micky, I would," Peter added.

"You sure he's not in any pain?" Mike asked. "Or any danger? Paralytics can stop the heart and lungs."

"I'm sure," Isis answered. "We used them on each other during my training. They never used one on me, though. I don't know if he can hear us or not. They never really talked about that with me. I just saw what it did and when it wore off; the people assured me that they felt no pain because of it."

"Why would you use them on each other?" Peter asked.

"So we knew what they did. My dad was very serious about my training. With so much focus being put on Egypt by archaeologists, he knew it was only a matter of time before the amulet was uncovered. Wanted me to be as prepared as possible. There were times I heard him and Mr. Williams fighting over it. Mr. Williams insisted I be treated like a child. Have fun. Play with other kids. That kind of stuff, but my dad was just so scared of losing me. I don't think he really ever dealt with my mom's death."

"That sounds rough," Mike said.

"It was. But I had my ways of having fun. Mostly pulling pranks on my dad. He'd never really get that mad though. I think most of the time he saw them coming, but played along anyway cause it made me really happy."

"Hey, mates," Davy called from the kitchen. "Breakfast is ready." Mike stood to go get himself some food, but Peter still couldn't bring himself to leave Micky.

"Go ahead and stay here, Isis," Mike said. "You're still too weak to be carrying anything." Mike walked out of the living room and into the kitchen.

"Did you get the stones we need?" Peter asked.

"Yeah," she answered with a nod over to a small bag on the floor. "Should be more than enough in there in case we make any mistakes. Just couldn't really find any glue, but Mike said that when we get done eating, we should head out anyway and can pick some up at the store."

"Any idea where we are going to go? We can't go back to the pad or your house."

"No. Mr. Williams was the only person here that I could trust. I made friends at school, but none of them will be able to handle this. The people who know about the amulet are in Egypt and England. The only thing I can think of is a hotel."

"That would work, but none of us has the money for that."

"I do. I don't know how long we are going to need, but I have plenty of money. My parents left me enough money, and Mr. Williams had a stash up in his room that he left in case something like this happened."

"Oh," Peter said. He turned back to Micky who still hadn't changed. Davy and Mike came in the living room with a tray of food and a glass of juice in each hand. Davy handed one to Peter before sitting down and Mike handed one to Isis before he too sat down. Davy made eggs, toast, and bacon. Peter wasn't sure he could really eat, but the smell of the food made his stomach gurgle with hunger, so he decided to eat. Micky would probably have been upset if Peter had neglected to eat food on his account anyway.

They all ate in relative silence, only mumbling a few words to tell Davy they thought the food was good. Once they had finished, Mike gathered up the plates and took them into the kitchen. Peter could faintly hear the sound of water and assumed Mike was washing the dishes.

"Do we have what we need to make the replica?" Davy asked.

"All except the glue," Isis answered. "We will pick that up on the way to our next hideout, for lack of a better word."

"Where's that going to be?" Davy asked.

"Probably a hotel. I have the money for it. Peter and I will work on the replica once we get there. I just wish we could get my bag from your house."

"Do you need something in it?" Mike asked returning to the living room.

"I can get by without it. It's just a few books of spells and stuff that might help us, but it turns out I remember more than I thought I did."

"Really?" Peter asked remembering how the trunk had unlocked itself the night before. "Like a spell to unlock things?"

"Not really. Mostly I don't need spells for stuff like that. If it's a simple manipulation of matter, I can just do it by thought. It's the more complicated stuff that I might need the books for."

"Manipulation of matter?" Davy asked.

"Take the floor in the curator's house for example. Manipulate the floorboards so they rot in the spot under his feet. The bullet was harder. That I had to physically move. The lock wasn't too bad though. Just rust it a little, then pull the bolts inside it. I got really good at undoing locks when I was little. I was too curious for my own good according to my dad."

"So what's the more complicated stuff?" Mike asked.

"Hopefully we don't need those. They would be spells to control spirits, living or dead…"

"Wait, you can control other people?" Mike asked cutting her off and sounding very skeptical.

"I can. Doesn't mean I do. There are also summoning spells in there to summon any object that might be useful to us. Some of the more complex ones summon other things that I won't get into. We won't need to go there."

"I'm not sure I want to know," Peter said.

"Me neither," Davy agreed.

"I don't believe you can control people," Mike said.

"What do think just happened to Micky?" Peter asked.

"That was different," Mike answered.

"Technically, Mike is right," Isis said. "What happened to Micky is a lot more intense and more dangerous. He was temporarily possessed."

"Are you sure it was temporarily?" Davy asked.

"I took the amulet away from him. Ramose's soul can't touch him anymore. He's still bound to the amulet. I don't understand how he could have done it in the first place, but I know he's still trapped. It had to have been the proximity."

"Are you sure?" Mike asked skeptically. "If you don't know how it happened this time, how are you sure it won't happen again?" Isis didn't answer right away, which made Peter start to worry more.

"I don't see how it could," she said softly, as though she didn't believe herself.

"What do we do if it happens again?" Davy asked.

"I don't know. I would need to check my books."

"Ok, why don't we get the glue," Mike said rubbing his head out of worry, "then I'll drop you off wherever we're going and I'll head back to the house to get the bag real quickly."

"Not alone, you're not," Davy said. "I'm going with you. He could be waiting for us. Better to have safety in numbers."

"If you're gonna do that, you should be prepared," Isis said. "Mike, help me into the kitchen and I can make a few more of those paralytic potions. Just in case." Mike nodded and helped her into the kitchen. Davy and Peter sat in the living room with Micky. It was unnerving to be this close to Micky and not hear him. Normally Micky was the most energetic out of all of them, and it was weird not to hear him. The thought that Micky may still be possessed or could possibly have it happen again terrified Peter. He wished there was a way to know for sure if Micky was truly ok. Thoughts raced through his mind again about the possibility that Micky was in pain or scared.

"Do you think he can hear us?" Davy asked.

"I don't know," Peter replied. "Isis said she doesn't know either."

"I don't see why he can't. He's just paralyzed, right?"

"That's what she says. But he looks like he's asleep."

"Well, he kind of needs sleep, don't you think?"

"Yeah. I hope he is sleeping. I hope he's ok." It took almost half an hour for Mike and Isis to come back into the living room. Mike held a few bottles in his hand and Isis had a few more. Mike handed one to Davy and they put them safely in their pocket.

"Make sure it doesn't break in your pockets," Isis warned as she handed another to Peter. He wasn't sure he wanted to take it, but did anyway. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

"We will," Mike said. "Do we need anything else?"

"No, we should go. I packed a little food for us for later already." She picked up a bag by her feet.

"Ok, Davy, help Isis out to the car. Peter, you help me with Micky." Peter nodded and stood up. He moved over to wrap his arms under Micky's shoulders while Mike grabbed Micky's feet. Together they carried him out to the car. Peter once again felt as if he would start crying at seeing his friend like this. It was hard to move him because he was so limp. They were moving dead weight. Peter wished there was a way he could make Micky stiff. Suddenly the memory of when Micky, Mike and Davy tried to throw him out the window flashed into his mind. He laughed when he remembered Micky wave his hands around and mutter "mmm….Peter, you're stiff". He had played along with them even making Micky come back later saying "ok, peter…mmm…you're un-stiff!"

"What's funny?" Davy asked seeing him chuckle.

"Nothing," Peter said. "Just remembering something funny Micky did."

"That's not too hard to do," Mike said with a chuckle of his own. Peter and Mike were able to get Micky into the backseat of the car without banging him against anything. Peter jumped in the seat in front of Micky so he could keep an eye on him, while Mike took his spot behind the wheel. Isis sat next to Peter and Davy sat next to Mike up front.

"Drive us to a hotel on the other side of town," Isis said. "The farther we go, the harder we'll be to track down."

"Got it," Mike said. They spent about an hour driving, after picking up glue at a nearby supermarket, before they pulled into the parking lot of a run-down, cheap, pay-by-the-hour motel. Davy helped Isis walk inside and pay for a room. She came out with 4 keys and handed one to Mike, one to Davy, and one to Peter while pocketing the fourth. Mike parked the car and once again they carried Micky out of the car into the hotel. Once they laid Micky down on one of the two beds the room offered, Mike ran his hand through his hair nervously.

"I don't really want to leave him, but…" Mike said, his voice trailing off. "I'll be back as soon as I can. And he'll be in good hands." Mike put his hand on Peter's shoulder. Mike knew that Peter still felt incredibly guilty, and this simple gesture made Peter smile. If Mike had faith in him, Peter knew he could do anything.

"Be very careful," Isis said. "Circle the block a few times. Go in the house slowly. Keep the car running so you can run if you need to."

"I will. You guys be careful, too. Don't leave the room. When Davy and I come back, we'll knock like this." Mike knocked on the table to a specific beat from one of their songs. "Don't open the door unless you hear that."

"Right," Peter said. With one last glance at Micky, Davy and Mike left. Peter heard the door lock behind them.

"Shall we get started?" Isis said. Peter nodded and sat down at a table in the corner of the room. Isis pulled the amulet out of her pocket and placed it on the other side of the table, away from Peter. Then she pulled out a few stones from the bag and set the glue on the table. They spent the next hour working to put the stones together in a configuration that resembled the amulet, but it was harder than it looked. A lot of the stones were the wrong shape or size, so they wouldn't fit together in the same configuration. Not to mention Peter found it very hard to focus knowing that two of his friends could very possibly be running head first into danger while the third was lying on the bed behind him unable to move or speak.


	7. Nightmares

Author's Note: Deep, heavy chapter. Hope you like. Read and review!

Chapter 7: Nightmares

Micky lay on the bed that Mike and Peter had put him on when they had gotten to the hotel a few hours ago. Mike and Davy had come back only an hour after leaving saying that they had found the bag just fine and hadn't run into any trouble. As far as they knew, Mr. Manfred had no idea where they were and was still out there looking for them somewhere. Mike had taken to pacing the room now, trying to come up with a plan in which Mr. Manfred would believe he had stolen the amulet without anyone getting hurt. Peter and Isis were still working on making the replica though, so they had time. The only thing Micky could do was sit and listen. He hadn't been this still in his entire life. He tried one more time to move, but nothing happened.

"I'm telling you we can't just leave it sitting somewhere," Davy said. "He'll suspect something."

"Davy's right," Peter agreed. "It's much too valuable for Isis to just leave it lying around somewhere."

"I think the only way to do is to let him capture me," Isis said.

"If we do that, there's no telling what he's going to do to you," Mike answered. They had been going back and forth on this for some time. Isis had insisted the only thing that would work is using herself as bait and letting him take the fake amulet off her. Mike didn't think it was a good idea. So they spent an hour arguing over it. "Besides, what exactly are you going to do with the real one?"

"Hide it," she answered.

"Ok, I kind of agree with Mike on this one," Davy said. "I don't wanna be left alone anywhere near that thing."

"As long as you don't touch it, you'll be fine," Isis said.

"And what happens if it doesn't work?" Mike asked. "What happens if he figures out you've got a fake and comes for the real one?"

"I won't let him," Isis said.

"Yeah, can you guarantee that?"

"I can't guarantee anything, but I promise I will do everything I can to keep you safe."

"Yeah, we've seen the wonderful job you've been doing on that so far," Mike snapped angrily. The room fell very silent after this.

"Mike…" Peter started.

"I'm sorry," Mike said with a sigh. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did," Isis answered. "When people are angry, they don't have the impulse control to not say what they're really thinking. You're right, anyway. I should have done a better job of keeping you all safe. What happened to Micky is my fault."

"No, it's not," Peter said. "Mike is just upset. He really didn't mean that. What happened to Micky is no more your fault than it is mine. Micky knew the risk of being that close to the amulet, but he took it anyway. We were all more concerned about you last night. What happened to Micky is no one's fault." Micky smiled. Just a few hours ago, Peter was an emotional wreck. He'd felt so guilty for having hurt Micky, but Micky was grateful for what Peter had done. He hadn't been able to control himself and he felt terrible that he was hurting Isis. He'd been screaming in his mind to stop, but hadn't been able to. He finally felt free when Peter threw the bottle.

Then it hit him. He had smiled. He tried it again, and smiled again. He tried moving his whole body, but couldn't do that yet. He figured he'd start slower. He tried moving his fingers, and to his delight, they did. None of his friends saw this, however. He tried moving his arms, but still felt as though a truck were on them. Ok, so just the small movements. But Micky would take what he could get. He wiggled his fingers as much as he could. Soon he was able to move his wrists, too. But still, his friends were too engrossed in their own argument to see him.

"Peter's right," Mike said. "I really am sorry; I didn't mean it. I guess I kinda did, but not towards you. I…I should have remembered the amulet was in his pocket. I saw him put it there and I knew what it had done to him last time. I was just so worried about you. I freaked out when I saw that knife. And the blood."

"It's ok, Mike," Davy said. "It's not your job to protect us."

"I know it's not my job, but…I do it anyway. I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost any of you."

"Well, I think you did a good job with me last night," Isis said. "I could tell you were very nervous, but you did what had to be done. Thank you for that."

"It was nothing," Mike said quietly. Micky could almost see him blushing.

"We still need to work this out," Peter said. "What if one of us goes as bait instead?"

"He's not going to believe that I gave the amulet to you," Isis said.

"He might, if we let him think that he cornered us and forced us to split up."

"How can we make him follow one of us instead of Isis, though?" Mike asked.

"I don't know. Maybe it's a bad idea."

"Not necessarily, Pete. We just need to figure out how to get him to follow the right one of us."

"And who's going to let themselves be captured," Davy added.

"I don't like it," Isis said. "I can't let you guys get hurt."

"It's all we've got," Mike said.

"No, it isn't. We can always go with my original plan. The only way we're going to make this believable is if I play bait."

"And I don't like that plan, so we're stuck." The room fell silent once again. Micky was still moving his fingers and wrists, but his friends seemed too lost in thought to notice.

"Well, it's almost done," Peter said finally. "Just a few more stones and…Micky!" Micky heard the chair clatter to the ground and knew Peter had jumped out of it so forcefully, he'd knocked the chair over. Micky laughed just from picturing it.

"He laughed!" Davy said. Suddenly Micky felt weight bearing down on either side of the bed as his friends sat down. Micky opened his eyes, but couldn't quite move his head yet. He saw Mike looking at him from one side and Peter from the other.

"Micky?" Mike said. Micky opened his mouth a little, but could only manage a whisper.

"Hey," he said.

"Why's he whispering?" Peter said turning away. "He still looks like he can't move."

"Well, it's not a sudden thing," Isis answered. "It takes time. He'll be able to talk in about a minute or so. He'll be up and moving in a couple."

"Oh, Micky!" Peter fell on top of Micky and gave him a very strong hug. It was so sudden, it knocked the wind out of Micky and he couldn't breathe for a few seconds. When he finally caught his breath, he smiled and remembered everything Peter had said to him while he couldn't move.

"Get off me you dirty rat!" Micky said in what regrettably was a bad James Cagney, but it was the best he could do with his friend on top of him and still partially paralyzed. But Peter, Davy and Mike still laughed. He hadn't heard them laugh that hard in a while and it made Micky happy. They were obviously very tense. Peter pushed himself off Micky, and Micky could now turn his head around to see everyone.

"At least we know it's him!" Davy said through his laughter.

"Does he do that often?" Isis asked.

"Yeah," Mike said, forcing himself to stop laughing. "Every chance he gets."

"I don't do it _that_ often!" Micky exclaimed defensively, but laughed with his friends nonetheless.

"Can you sit up yet?" Isis asked smiling at the four friends.

"I think so," Micky pushed himself up. He felt slightly dizzy, but pushed through it.

"I'm so glad you're ok, Micky," Peter said.

"Yeah, Pete, I'm fine," Micky replied seriously. "Thanks to you."

"I…" Peter started.

"Don't!" Micky held up a hand to cut him off. "I heard everything you said, Pete. I wasn't scared and I wasn't in pain. Well, not once the headache went away, but that was more from that amulet than anything else."

"You weren't scared?" Mike asked skeptically. "Really?"

"Well, maybe a little," Micky admitted. "At first, but I knew I was ok. I knew the paralysis would wear off eventually. I was more scared about my body doing things I didn't want them to do. I tried really hard to stop, but I couldn't. I'm sorry, Isis."

"Don't apologize," she replied. "You did nothing wrong."

"None of us did," Micky said, making sure to look at Peter, Mike and Isis as he said this. He knew they all had feelings of guilt that were completely unfounded.

"Agreed," Davy said. "You must be starving. We have some food for you." Davy ran over to a bag on the floor and pulled out a bag of pretzels. "Not the healthiest thing, but at least its food."

"I'll take it," Micky said reaching out for the bag. As if on cue, his stomach grumbled loudly which made Mike snicker a little.

"Peter, let's get back to this amulet," Isis said. Peter nodded. He was still smiling very widely. Micky knew he was going to be excited for a while now that he knew Micky was ok. Micky tore open the bag of pretzels and began shoving as many as he could in his mouth. He really was starving. He hadn't eaten since before he had gone to work the night before.

"Slow down, Shotgun," Mike laughed. "You're gonna choke." Micky grinned sheepishly at his friend and slowed down. Davy laughed and fished a soda out of the fridge and set it on the nightstand next to Micky.

"Guess you are hungry," Davy laughed. "We had stuff for sandwiches packed, but the meat got kind of spoiled on the trip here."

"I heard," Micky laughed. It was only a few minutes after they had gotten back that they realized they had forgotten to put the cheese and meat in the fridge. Mike and Davy tried to salvage it, but even Micky could smell it was bad after having been out in the hot car for an hour, then in the hotel room for another hour.

"Maybe we could go to the store and grab something." Mike offered.

"I don't think leaving is a good idea right now," Micky said. "I'll be fine with pretzels."

"We could always order pizza," Isis said. She had picked up a blue stone and was holding it up to the light between her fingers. Slowly, the stone began to shine brightly and the shape and size of it shrank.

"We can't afford pizza," Davy muttered.

"Did you forget about the money Mr. Williams left?" Isis said, handing the shrunken stone to Peter. "How's that?"

"No, but that's not exactly our money," Mike said.

"A little smaller," Peter mumbled handing the stone back to her so she could shrink it even more.

"Its money he wanted to be used for situations like this," she said, as she held the stone up to the light again. "Call and order Micky's favorite pizza. This isn't up for discussion." Micky blushed a little. He could tell she was trying to cater to Micky because she still felt guilty.

"It doesn't have to be my favorite," Micky mumbled as Davy grabbed a phone book and began thumbing through it to find a pizza place.

"Sure it does," Isis said with a smile. "We ate hours ago. It's your turn now." He opened his mouth to argue, but at that moment, she turned her head a little and Micky saw a small but dark bruise on her neck. He immediately moved his eyes to her wrist. She had a bruise there, too. His voice caught in his throat knowing it was his hands that had done that. He knew it wasn't his fault, but that didn't stop him from feeling guilty. And angry. He didn't realize he had clenched his hand into a fist. But apparently, Mike saw it.

"You deserve a little something special, Mick," Mike put his hand on Micky's arm and squeezed it in a way that told Micky to relax and that everything was ok. Micky softened a little and unclenched his fist, but he still felt angry and guilty. Davy found the number for the nearest pizza place and called it. He quickly ordered Micky's favorite pizza.

It took half an hour for the pizza to arrive. When the pizza boy knocked, everyone stood up, except Micky whose legs still felt a little like jello. Davy and Mike put their hands in their pockets and tensed up. Isis answered the door, paid the boy and closed and locked the door behind him. Once they heard the car start and drive away, everyone relaxed again. Isis handed Micky the box and a few plates. Micky finished about half the pizza before he decided he was really tired. He told his friends he wanted to try and get some sleep. He crawled under the covers and was asleep within a few minutes.

As he dreamed, he heard the chanting again that he'd heard the first night with the amulet. He couldn't make out what the words were, but he felt very uneasy about them. There were four hooded figures standing around a stone table, just like the dream he had before. This time he could make out a bit more detail, though. There were columns with vibrant paints on them marking a path to the stone table. There were hieroglyphs all over the walls that seemed to be glowing in the light of the torches around the room. The room was very, very hot, and Micky wasn't sure if it was from the torches or the fact that they were obviously in the desert because the ground was nothing but sand.

The chanting seemed to grow louder as Micky stood there. As he had in the first dream, he heard a woman scream. He looked around to see if he could hear where it was coming from. Finally, he saw a woman being dragged into the room by two more hooded men. She had chains around her wrists and neck. Micky tried to help her, but found he couldn't really move from the spot he was in. All he could do was watch. An observer in his own dream. But something told Micky it wasn't a dream.

"Ramose," said one of the men dragging the woman, oddly enough in English. "We have brought a new sacrifice." The four men chanting stopped and turned towards the woman. One of the hooded men walked toward her and lowered his hood. He was bald and had paint around his eyes. His eyes were cold and black. They looked empty; devoid of any emotion at all. Micky looked at the man with contempt. This is the man who had caused all the problems he and his friends were currently dealing with.

"Tie her to the table," Ramose said. The two men dragged her to the table and began tying her to it. It was a struggle because she was fighting as vigorously as she could. She nearly escaped once when she landed a kick to the face of one of the men, but the other pulled on the chain around her neck as she tried to run. Ramose walked over to her as the men tried again to restrain her to the table again. He placed his hand on the top of her head and muttered something under his breath. The girl immediately stopped fighting her captors and fell limp on the table. Once she was tied to the table, the men started chanting again. After a few minutes of more chanting, Ramose pulled a large knife out of his robes. Micky tried to look away. If he couldn't do anything to help her, he didn't want to watch her die. But luckily he was spared that.

"Micky!" he heard. "Micky wake up!" Micky snapped awake, nearly falling off the bed again. Luckily, someone caught him this time.

"Micky, you ok?" someone behind him asked. Slowly the real world started to come back to him. Peter was the one who'd woken him up and who'd caught him from falling. Davy was standing behind him. He looked up and standing behind Peter with worried expressions were Mike and Isis.

"Yeah," Micky answered. "Dream, crazy dream."

"Micky, you're drenched in sweat!" Davy exclaimed. Sure enough, Micky was once again covered in sweat.

"You look just like you did the morning after Isis slipped the amulet in your pocket," Mike said.

"You said that's when you had that dream about the men chanting?" Isis asked.

"Yeah, I had the same dream," Micky answered. "But it was longer and more detailed."

"That's not good," Peter said.

"Yeah, I thought you said Micky wouldn't have any more problems after you took the amulet from him," Mike said.

"He shouldn't," Isis answered. "Micky, when you had the first dream, were you wearing your pants with the amulet in them?"

"No, I was wearing my regular pajamas," Micky answered.

"That doesn't make any sense," Isis mused. "If the amulet wasn't in close contact, it shouldn't have done anything. Tell me about the dream."

"Well, there were guys chanting around a table again, but this time I could tell it must have been in some sort of temple in Egypt. The four men stopped chanting when two men dragged in a woman, screaming and chained. They said she was a sacrifice. Ramose told them to tie her to the table, but she fought them, so he did something to her. He put his hand on her head and she went limp. I woke up right before he stabbed her."

"How do you know it was Ramose?" Mike asked.

"They addressed him by name."

"They were speaking English?" Davy asked.

"Yeah, I thought that was weird."

"I don't understand," Isis said as she crossed over to a bag sitting on the floor. Micky recognized it as the duffel bag that she had packed so hastily at her house. She pulled a few books out of it before settling on a small leather-bound journal.

"What's that?" Mike asked as she opened it and started flipping through.

"It's my grandfather's journal," she answered without looking up. "He wrote everything he knew down in here. I don't understand how Micky could be picking up on memories without being in contact with the amulet."

"Memories?" Davy asked.

"Yeah, he used to make sacrifices like that all the time. It's why he was originally imprisoned. There must be something in here…" she continued to flip through absently.

"While you look through that, I'm going to take a shower," Micky said.

"Sure," she answered. The shower in the hotel was rather terrible. The hot water only lasted about 2 minutes before it turned icy cold. But since he figured he was going to just put on his sweaty clothes again, it didn't matter that much. When he walked out of the bathroom, he was still towel-drying his hair. Isis was still flipping through the journal and Mike, Peter, and Davy were nervously sitting on the other bed.

"That was fast," Mike said.

"Shower sucks," Micky replied. "Barely any hot water. Find anything yet?"

"Not really," Isis answered, still flipping through pages. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. The only person who ever had close contact with it was the original priestess. Once she sealed his soul away, she hid it deep within the confines of her temple so that no one could get near it."

"You said people tried to steal it back?" Mike said. "Didn't anyone get close?"

"The closest anyone ever got, according to my grandfather, was one of his followers. He made it into the chamber somehow and took the amulet, but she killed him before he made it out of the chamber with it."

"Then where did the rumors come from about touching it?" Davy asked.

"Mostly just warnings passed down through the generations. I just don't understand this." She slapped the journal closed in frustration.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Micky said. "I'm not possessed anymore."

"I'm not so sure if you're still having those dreams," Peter said.

"Well, maybe it's just residual," Micky replied shrugging his shoulders. He felt perfectly fine now. He threw the towel back into the bathroom and crossed the room to sit on the bed where Isis was now thumbing through some of the books she had.

"Micky's probably right," Isis said.

"Probably?" Davy said.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with probably," Mike added.

"I feel fine, guys," Micky argued. "I think I would know. I mean, last time I heard him laughing in my head, and trust me, that's not something I'm going to forget."

"Well, none of us really knows how this works," Mike argued. "We don't really know…"

"I'm fine!" Micky shouted, jumping off the bed and startling his friends. "Stop fussing over me!" Micky started to walk toward the door, but Peter rushed over to stop him.

"Where are you going, Micky?" Peter asked jumping in front of him.

"I need some air, okay, Pete, now get outta my way."

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave right now, Micky," Davy said.

"I really don't care," Micky said turning on his other two friends. He really wasn't sure why he was so angry at his friends, but he couldn't stand the fretting anymore. Or looking at the bruises Isis had. "Look, I won't be gone long, and I won't go far."

"I'm gonna have to say no, Micky," Mike said. "Now, I will _make_ you stay here if I have to."

"How?" Micky challenged.

"Please don't make me make you, Micky," Mike said as he moved to stand next to Peter in front of the door.

"You can't make me do anything, Mike," Micky countered.

"I don't want to," Mike refuted. "But I will if I have to."

"There's a psycho out there trying to kill us," Davy said. "Not to mention there might still be something wrong with you."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Micky snapped.

"Then why are you so angry right now?" Peter asked.

"Because none of you will let me leave!"

"We aren't letting you leave because like said, there's a psycho trying to kill us!" Mike exclaimed. "If you leave, you'll be painting a target on your back! You said it earlier when I offered to go to the store: it's not a good idea to leave."

"Mike, just get out my way," Micky said in a near growl.

"No, Micky, I'm not moving." Micky felt anger bubble in his chest and still wasn't sure why he was so angry. He knew his friends were right and that he should really stay in the hotel room, but for some reason he wasn't letting this go. He felt his hand bunch up into a fist once again and before he knew it, he punched Mike in the face.

His mind reeled from what he'd just done. He looked at his friend, who was now doubled over and clutching at his face. His mind and vision were both in a haze. He looked at Peter who had taken a step back out of fright, but was still standing his ground. His eyes flicked from Mike back to Micky. Micky felt terrible immediately, but his anger wasn't satiated. He tried to force himself to calm down, but it was no use. He was also slightly afraid. He'd never done anything like this; not to his friends at least. Before he knew what he was doing, he took a step towards Peter.

"You gonna move, Peter?" he asked, his voice low and frightening.

"N-no," Peter stuttered out. He puffed up his chest intimidatingly, but Micky knew it was pointless. Peter was as non-violent as anyone could get. And yet, he reached out and grabbed Peter by the shoulders and shoved him into the wall. Micky was shocked by his own actions and forced himself to let go of Peter. Before anything else happened, he ripped open the door and left the hotel room.


	8. Gone

Author's Note: I know I write a lot from Micky, Peter, and Mike's perspectives and none from Davy's. It's not that I don't want to, cause I like all four boys (granted my ranking has changed to Micky, Peter, Mike, then Davy), but when I try and do things from Davy's perspective, it doesn't work out, so I end up scraping it. Maybe soon I can get one from Davy's perspective.

So this chapter is going to show the same place in time from 3 different perspectives, then pick up from there.

Chapter 8: Gone

Peter could only stand there dumbfounded. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He felt too many emotions at that moment to do much of anything. He was angry at Micky, even though he knew it wasn't really Micky's fault. He didn't think Micky was possessed again; at least not like he was before. Micky never really got that angry, at least never at one of them, so what he'd done was very unlike him, but it also seemed different than that morning.

"Mike, Peter, you ok?!" Davy exclaimed running over to them. Isis also got up and walked over to the two boys.

"I think so," Mike said. His voice was muffled because his hand was covering his mouth and nose.

"Let me see," Davy said pulling his hand away from his face. Peter tensed when he saw blood coming from Mike's nose.

"It doesn't look too bad," Isis said.

"Too bad!?" Davy exclaimed rushing to grab a tissue for Mike. "He's bleeding!"

"I mean I don't think it's broken," she answered as Davy handed the tissue to Mike. "It just looks like a nosebleed. Should stop soon."

"Peter, are you okay?" Mike asked holding the tissue up to his nose.

"Y-yeah," Peter croaked out. He was more stunned than anything. Micky hadn't really grabbed him that hard, but his back was a little sore from hitting the wall.

"Ok, I'm gonna go follow him," Mike said.

"What?" Davy asked.

"Look, he's obviously not right," Mike said holding out the bloody tissue for emphasis. "I'm going to follow him to make sure he doesn't get into any trouble. You guys stay here and finish that stupid replica so we can be rid of that horrible amulet for good." Without any further argument, Mike opened the door and left. Peter was still unable to move from his spot on the wall.

"Peter?" Isis said placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't understand," Peter started. "What just happened?"

"I don't know," Isis answered. "But I'm going to look through my books some more; see if I can't find something in there I can use to help Micky."

"Peter, come on," Davy said. "Mike's right; the sooner we get that fake finished, the sooner this will all be over with. Now, what else do you have to do?"

"I just have to finish gluing a few pieces together," Peter answered, forcing himself to start taking responsibility like he'd promised himself he would. No matter how scared he was right now, he knew the best way to help his friend was to put the whole mess behind them. Peter sat down at the table with Davy. Davy poured a little more super glue into the foil they were using as a plate and picked up a toothpick ready to dip it in the glue and hand it to peter when he was ready for it. Peter lined up a few pieces, and then reached out his hand for the toothpick.

They had only been working for a few minutes when they heard the door burst off its hinges. Peter jumped at the sudden sound and the fake amulet went flying to the ground and shattered. Peter looked to the door hoping to see Micky or Mike standing in the doorway, but he didn't. He saw Mr. Manfred burst into the room with a gun in his hand. He was followed by three men with more guns. Before anyone could move to put up a fight, the three men advanced upon them. They grabbed Isis first who had been sitting on the bed closest to the door. Then the two other men rushed to grab Peter and Davy.

Davy jumped to the ground and crawled under the legs of the man advancing on him, while Peter leapt up onto the table and tried to jump over to the bed. The man advancing on him reacted quickly and grabbed Peter's leg as he jumped causing Peter to lose his balance and fall. Luckily he bounced of the bed, so he wasn't hurt. The man grabbed his arm and yanked him up. Peter froze when he felt the man shove a gun into his back. Davy wasn't faring any better. He'd managed to crawl under the guy attacking him, but Mr. Manfred had kicked him in the stomach, and then yanked him up off the ground before throwing him to the third goon.

"Let them go," Isis said, trying to wiggle out of the grip of the man holding her. Mr. Manfred walked over to her and smiled rather sadistically.

"You're not in any position to stop me," he snarled. "I'm ready for you this time." Mr. Manfred held out a cloth and covered her mouth with it. She struggled a bit, but the man holding her had a good grip on her. Peter and Davy struggled, too, but couldn't get free either. After only a few seconds, Isis stopped fighting and went limp.

"What did you do to her!?" Davy demanded.

"Shut it, fool, unless you want the same fate!" Mr. Manfred snapped. The men pulled Davy and Peter by the arm and out the room. The man holding Isis was carrying her out of the room behind them. Peter looked around quickly before they shoved him inside the van. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see Micky or Mike. If he saw them, there was a chance Mr. Manfred would see them and kidnap them too. But at the same time, he hoped they were nearby and were witnessing this so that maybe they could follow them and rescue them. Peter didn't see anyone, however as the goons started tying a rope around his hands behind his back and slamming the door closed to the van.

* * *

Mike closed the door behind him and looked around for any sign of Micky. He didn't immediately see his friend, so he started walking towards the main street. Looking both ways he saw nothing, so he turned and walked towards the alley behind the hotel. When he approached the alley, he saw a figure turn a corner towards another street. It was too dark and the figure was too far away to tell if it was Micky or not, but he ran to catch up to the person anyway. No one else was around; it had to be him. He rounded the corner and upon seeing the figure ahead of him was indeed Micky, he slowed down so Micky wouldn't know he was being followed. He didn't want a repeat of being punched in the face.

Mike was fighting against all the emotions bubbling inside him. He couldn't believe that Micky had even punched him. He knew that something was happening to Micky to make him much more irritable than he normally would have been, and he didn't need more than one guess as to what that something was. He just didn't think that Micky would punch him. He hadn't even seen it coming. He supposed maybe he should have, since he did kick Peter and choke Isis while he was possessed, but this situation seemed different. He knew that he was still talking to Micky, but he was much angrier than Mike had ever seen him.

Mike made sure to look around as often as he could, without losing sight of Micky. He wanted to make sure that no one else was watching or following them. But he also wanted to make sure that if Micky turned around, he'd be able to duck out of sight quickly. He hoped this walk would somehow calm Micky down. He wasn't sure what was going on with his friend, but he wasn't about to let him cause any more damage to himself or anyone else.

Micky didn't seem to be going in any particular direction. A few times he stopped to look around for a second and Mike dashed behind a trash can or parked car to prevent himself from being seen. But Micky would start walking again as soon as he decided which direction he wanted to go in. This lasted about 10 minutes before Micky stopped and leaned against a wall. Mike was too far away to see what he was doing, but Micky was facing his general direction, so Mike was forced once again to dart behind a car. He positioned himself so that he could peer at Micky through the cars mirrors. After a minute of leaning against the wall, Micky picked up a bottle on the ground and threw it against the wall violently. Mike desperately wanted to go comfort his friend when he slid down the wall to sit on the dirty pavement, but feared that might make things worse, so he resigned himself to watch.

After a few minutes, Micky got up and began walking back to the hotel. Mike followed at a distance the whole time. Micky didn't stop this time on the way back, seeming to remember where the hotel was, so Mike didn't have to dash behind anything to hide anymore. He still remained a considerable distance behind his friend when Micky had reached the parking lot. Micky stopped in front of the door to the hotel. Mike wasn't sure why until Micky ran inside and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Micky had run right on top of the door. It was lying on the ground completely off its hinges. Mike ran through the parking lot to the hotel room and dashed inside.

"Mike!" Micky exclaimed when Mike ran in. Micky ran over to him and wrapped him in a tight hug. "Mike, you're ok!"

"Mostly," Mike answered, but he absently rubbed his nose. His heart nearly stopped as he took in the scene in the room. He felt guilty for leaving his friends behind. Nothing had happened to Micky, but obviously something had happened to Davy, Peter, and Isis. He couldn't help but feel as if he abandoned his friends when they needed him most.

* * *

Micky slammed the door behind him. His hand was throbbing now from punching Mike. He still wasn't sure why he'd done it, or why he'd shoved Peter into the wall. He was just so angry. He knew he shouldn't be and he was still trying to force himself to calm down. He hoped this walk that he fought so hard to take would work. He turned towards an alley and paused when he thought he saw someone move in the shadows. It was night, so it was very dark and hard to see. He shook his head, deciding he must have been seeing things, and continued to walk towards the alleyway. When he made it to a street, he turned down on it and decided to walk that way. He really had no idea where he was going. He didn't even have an idea of where he was. He knew he might get lost, so he made a mental note of the different landmarks he was travelling past so he could make his way back to the hotel when he was ready.

He thought if he sifted through his thoughts that maybe he could figure out what was going on with him. Why had he even wanted to take this walk? He was tired of his friends fussing over him. He told himself they were only fussing because they cared about his welfare. He shouldn't be mad at that. He should have just asked them to respectfully leave him alone. He also hated looking at the bruises Isis had. He knew that it wasn't his fault. It was Ramose who'd done it. But he couldn't help feeling guilty about it. So was he really just trying to run away from himself? From the feelings of guilt that he had? He'd sure done a good job at that. He'd punched one of his best friends and shoved another into a wall. The guilt he felt for hurting Isis was unfounded; but he couldn't say the same thing for the guilt he felt for hurting his friends.

So here he was now; walking down a dark street alone and sore-knuckled. He still didn't understand why he was so angry that Mike, Peter, and Davy didn't want him to leave. He _had_ said earlier that day that it wasn't a good idea for any of them to leave. And if Micky was still having issues with this amulet possessing him, then he knew that it was better for Isis and the others to keep an eye on him. If there were still residual problems, they could do something to stop him before he hurt someone else. None of them knew what was going on with Micky, so for all he knew, he could still be sharing a body with Ramose. It was possible a small part of Ramose was still lingering inside his body, waiting for…waiting for something. Micky had no idea what it was that Ramose wanted. Other than death and murder.

Micky stopped and leaned against a wall. What if this were true? Micky had just walked away from the one person who could stop him without hurting him. What if this is what Ramose was waiting for? If Ramose was trying to make him angry and walk away so that Isis wouldn't be able to help Micky? What if Ramose possessed him again and forced Micky to hurt someone else? To kill someone?

Micky grabbed a bottle off the ground and threw it. He watched it shatter into thousands of pieces and felt a strange sense of empathy with the bottle. He felt as if his whole world were shattering around him. He sunk to the ground. He looked at his throbbing hand and saw blood on it. He was pretty sure the blood wasn't his. The look off shock and fear on Peter's face flashed through his mind. As did the image of Mike doubled over in pain and clutching his face. He buried his face in his hands and began to cry slightly. What was happening to him? If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that most of the anger he was feeling wasn't normal. He knew what he had to do. He had to suck it up and let his friends help him. Hopefully there was a way Isis could figure out what was going on.

He pushed himself up and wiped his eyes. He thought he saw something dart behind a car down the street, but ignored it and walked back to the hotel. He was going to push himself to focus only on himself and what he was going to say to Mike, Peter and Davy. He knew he couldn't just simply apologize to them. He knew they wouldn't fully blame him for what had happened. They were better men than that. And smarter. But still, he knew that he should have controlled his anger better. He should have just listened to his friends in the first place.

He entered the parking lot to the hotel, still barely paying attention, so he didn't notice that the door to the hotel room had been busted in and was lying on the floor until he was almost at the door. Fear rushed through him and he ran into the room. He didn't see any of his friends. The chairs were knocked over and the bed was askew. On the floor was the shattered remains of the fake amulet Peter was working on. Micky felt like he wanted to throw up. He'd abandoned them when they needed him. And now who knew where they were or what was happening to them.

A noise behind him startled him. He whirled around and saw Mike standing in the doorway looking dumbfounded. Joy and relief washed through him.

"Mike!" He shouted, glad that at least one of his friends was ok. He rushed over and wrapped his friend in a tight hug, afraid to let go. "Mike, you're ok!"

"Mostly," Mike answered. Micky let go of his friend and noticed that he had some blood under his nose. Guilt ripped through him again.

"Mike, you're bleeding. I'm so sorry. I…"

"Stop, Micky," Mike interrupted. "I'll be fine. We need to figure out what happened here first."

"You weren't here?"

"No, I followed you."

"You followed me?"

"I wanted to make sure you stayed safe and…and that you didn't hurt someone else. But that's not the point right now. How did this happen? I didn't see anyone else when I left."

"I thought I saw someone duck in an alley. But that won't help us figure out where he took them."

"Micky, a note!" Mike rushed over to a piece of paper lying on the undamaged bed. Micky rushed over to stand next to him as Mike picked up the note. Micky's stomach lurched when he saw it was addresses specifically to him.

"Micky Dolenz,

If you ever want to see your friends alive again, come to the warehouse next to the museum."

"What does he want with me?" Micky asked, though he thought he already knew.

"I don't know, Micky," Mike answered.

"What are we gonna do?"

"We have to help them."

"Of course we do. But do we have a plan? I mean, they'll be ready for us. We can't just go in there."

"I know. We'll think of something on the way." The two of them rushed out of the room and towards the car. They tried hashing out a plan on the way, but they didn't have much to go on. They didn't know how many people they would have to deal with or what the situation was with their friends. Mike said he still had a paralytic in his pocket, but only one. By the time they pulled up to the warehouse, they had only worked out that Micky would go in alone and Mike would try and assess the situation and wing it from there.

When they stopped the car and got out, however, they were met with 3 men and guns, shooting down the flimsy plan they had. Mike and Micky both put their hands in the air in surrender. The men motioned for them to go inside, and Mike and Micky complied. When they walked in, the room was dark and neither boy could see anything. Suddenly, a large light flicked on in Micky's eyes. The light was so bright that Micky had to hold his hand in front of his face to keep from being blinded by it.

"So glad you could join us, Mr. Dolenz," came the voice of Mr. Manfred.

"Where are my friends?" Micky demanded. He tried to remove all the terror he felt from his voice.

"They're here," Mr. Manfred answered. The light was moved away from Micky and directed more towards the center of the room. Micky could now see Davy and Peter sitting on the ground tied up back to back in the middle of the room. They were struggling against their ropes and they had gags in their mouths, but they looked otherwise unhurt.

"Where's Isis?" Micky asked. He still hadn't seen her.

"She hasn't woken up yet from her little nap."

"Nap? What did you do to her!?" Micky exclaimed and took a step forward menacingly.

"Relax, my dear boy. She'll be fine. I just didn't want her using her little powers to stop me, so I let her take a nap."

"What do you want with Micky?" Mike asked.

"Simple," Mr. Manfred replied. "I want him to help me. He's a sort of conduit now."

"Conduit?"

"Ramose likes his body for some reason. I know that Ramose has possessed him. The connection has already been established which makes it easier for me to complete."

"How do you know that?"

"I followed you fools from your house and heard your whole conversation. Next time you might want to pick a better hotel room with better noise insulation."

"I'm not going to help you do anything," Micky said.

"You will. Whether you like it or not."

"Oh, and I suppose that you're going to kill us if he doesn't want to?" Mike asked.

"No," Mr. Manfred answered. "He doesn't have a choice in the matter. I told you, the connection's already been formed."

"You're full of it," Micky quipped, even though deep down he knew Mr. Manfred was right. It was the reason he'd attacked Mike and Peter in the hotel. He understood it now. It was Ramose's anger he was feeling, not his own.

"Oh am I now?" Mr. Manfred walked over to Peter and Davy sitting on the ground. He untied them from each other, but they were still tied up separately. He yanked Peter up into a standing position.

"Peter!" Mike and Micky exclaimed.

"Don't hurt him!" Micky ordered.

"I don't have to," Mr. Manfred replied. "_You_ already did." He lifted up Peter's shirt to reveal a large dark bruise across his stomach. Micky's throat caught knowing this was from the kick Micky had given him while under Ramose's control. Even though he knew it wasn't his fault, he still felt incredibly guilty seeing his friend's injury. Micky felt his eyes well up with tears.

"Micky didn't do that," Mike said angrily.

"That's sort of my point," Mr. Manfred laughed. "The only thing I'm curious about is how strong this connection is. I would like to check if Micky could channel Ramose again without the amulet."

"What are you going to do?" Mike asked.

"That's all up to Micky."

"What do you mean?"

"He's fighting the connection. If he stops, I can get an idea of how deep the connection goes."

"You want him to allow himself to be controlled again? I don't think so. Micky, don't listen to him." Micky was barely listening to Mike. He was still staring at Peter and Davy. He felt heartbroken. He didn't know what to say or do. Mr. Manfred shoved Peter to the ground causing him to land on his knees. He then pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it directly at the back of Peter's head. Peter froze in terror realizing this as he heard the gun cock.

"NO!" Mike shouted. Losing all sense of control, he darted forward to try and save Peter, but one of the goons that had led them in there grabbed Mike before he could make it very far.

"Don't!" Micky shouted. His knees felt weak. What was he going to do? If he let Mr. Manfred have his way, then he very well could hurt his friends himself while under Ramose's control. But if he didn't, Mr. Manfred would kill his friends and Micky would still be forced to act as a conduit for Ramose. Either way he was screwed. He fell to his knees, his head throbbing and wanting desperately to cry. Mr. Manfred laughed. Micky felt a new surge of anger rise in him. How could anyone be laughing right now? He wanted to punch Mr. Manfred, but knew he'd never be able to get that close without him shooting Peter in the back of the head.

"Well, boy?" Mr. Manfred asked challengingly. The anger inside Micky began to boil even hotter, if that were possible. He felt as though he'd explode at any minute. Instead, all the windows in the warehouse suddenly burst, raining glass on everyone in the room.

"What the…" mumbled the goons in the room as they ducked to cover their faces along with everyone else.

"What just happened?" Mike asked. Mr. Manfred put his gun away and laughed again.

"Well done!" he said. "I knew if I made you mad you'd tap into Ramose's magic. Whether you knew it or not. Well done, indeed, my dear boy!" Micky barely comprehended what Mr. Manfred was saying. Had Micky done that? He certainly felt like he wanted to explode, then the glass exploded. Mr. Manfred motioned to one of his goons and before Micky could react one of the men clamped a cloth over his mouth. Micky jerked and tried to fight, but couldn't. The last thing he heard before everything went dark was Mike screaming his name.


	9. Loss of Control

Author's Note: I've updated my profile to let everyone get to know me. I've put my fave quotes, songs, and episodes on there as well as a small list of other things I like. I'm currently obsessed with the Monkees though, so it's mainly about that. Go check it out!

Chapter 9: Loss of Control

Mike struggled against the man holding him. He almost broke free, but a second man grabbed his other arm to hold him back. They squeezed his arms so tightly he thought they might cut off the circulation to his hands. He could only watch as Micky was rendered unconscious.

"Micky!" He shouted, fighting even harder as his friend went limp and fell to the ground. "What did you do to him!?"

"Relax," Mr. Manfred said. "He's just taking a nap." He spoke to his goons now. "Take Dolenz to the table and lock these fools up back there. I'll figure out what to do with them later." The two goons holding him started to drag Mike across the warehouse while more goons grabbed Peter and Davy. Another very large man picked up Micky and carried him off down a hallway. The goons pushed Peter and Davy into a small room in the back of the warehouse before the two holding Mike shoved him in. Mike fell on the floor and heard the door slam and locked closed. He jumped up and started banging on the door trying to open it, even though he knew it wasn't going to work.

"Let me out!" Mike shouted. "I swear, if you hurt Micky, I'll kill you!" Mike pounded on the door some more before he realized that Peter and Davy were trying to get his attention behind their gags. He'd forgotten that they were still tied up. With a relenting sigh, he stopped his futile attack on the door and moved to untie his friends. He slipped the gags off and untied the ropes. "Are you guys ok?" he asked.

"Yeah, we are now," Peter said.

"We have to find a way out of here and save Micky!" Davy said.

"The door is solid," Mike answered.

"Maybe if we all hit it at the same time," Peter suggested.

"It's worth a shot," Davy agreed.

"Anything's worth a shot," Mike said as he stood in between his two friends. "Ok, on the count of three. One."

"Two," Davy said.

"Three!" Peter exclaimed and they all charged the door, only to bounce off it and land on their backsides on the ground.

"Ow," Davy said rubbing his shoulders.

"Well that didn't work," Peter said angrily at the door.

"Now what?" Mike asked looking around the room. There was nothing in the room. It was very small with no windows and only the one door. The door was their only way out. And since it wouldn't budge, they were stuck with no way to help Micky.

"We have to think of something," Davy whined.

"Well, we have one thing going for us," Peter said.

"What's that?" Mike asked skeptically.

"We know they aren't going to hurt Micky."

"Of course they are!" Davy exclaimed. "They're going to put Ramose's soul into his body!"

"Exactly," Peter reasoned. "That means they can't hurt him. They need his body intact. If they do possess him, Isis can undo it."

"If Isis is alive," Mike answered. "What did they do to her?"

"I'm not sure," Peter answered. "They put a cloth over her mouth like they did with Micky back at the hotel. I'm guessing it was chloroform. When we got here, they dragged Davy and I into that main room and tied us together. The big guy carried her off down the same hallway they carried Micky down."

"If he didn't kill her in the hotel room, then there's a chance she's still alive," Mike mused.

"I wonder why?" Davy asked. "What does he want with her? He was ready to kill her at his house and at the pad."

"I don't know," Mike said. "But we've got to hope that he found some reason to keep her alive. And us. For Micky's sake. But this really doesn't help us figure out how to get out of here."

"Do you still have your paralysis potion?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"They took ours," Davy said. "Searched us when we got into the van."

"Maybe we can use that somehow?" Peter suggested.

"Yeah, maybe when they come in to feed us or something," Mike agreed. "We can throw it at whoever comes in. They've got to feed us, right?"

"Surely," Davy agreed. They all sat on the floor and stared at the door, waiting for it to open. Mike had his hand wrapped protectively around the little bottle in his pocket.

* * *

Micky slowly came back into consciousness. His head was pounding. He slowly opened his eyes to try and see where he was. And to try and see if his friends were ok. He tried to sit up, but found he was tied down. The surface he was on felt very hard. Micky looked around the room, but it was very dark and he couldn't see much. He listened, but there didn't appear to be anyone else in the room. He pulled against the ropes tying him down, but they were too tight for him to even lift his arms an inch. He tried moving his feet, but they seemed to be tied down too. All he could move was his head, which didn't do much good in the darkness.

For a moment, he thought about crying out for help, but how much good would that really do him? If his friends were free and able to help him, they'd have surely done so. But what if they couldn't find him? Then crying out for help might do him some good. Then again, it could also bring the attention of his captor, which was much more likely. He strained his ear to listen. For footsteps, voices, anything. After a while, he finally heard footsteps. Before he could try and figure out who they belonged to, the door opened, and light spilled into the room. Micky closed his eyes thinking it was probably Mr. Manfred and wanted to pretend he was still knocked out.

"Wake up, Dolenz," Mr. Manfred said. Micky kept his eyes closed. A moment later, however, he felt ice cold water splash on his face. He jerked and cried out.

"Man, what did you do that for?!" He exclaimed.

"I told you to wake up," Mr. Manfred replied.

"Did the water have to be so cold?"

"I've waited so long for this!" he said, completely ignoring Micky. "I have the amulet and the spell. And I even have a vessel. Very good of you to volunteer, Mr. Dolenz."

"I didn't."

"Shall we begin?"

"Let's not." Micky looked around the room now and saw Mr. Manfred standing over him. The light revealed that Micky was laying on a table similar to the one in his dream. And then he saw Isis, gagged and chained to a wall in the corner. She was hanging there rather limp. Upon seeing her, Micky struggled against his bonds once more.

"Stop that," Mr. Manfred said. "You're only going to waste your precious energy, and you may hurt yourself."

"Let her go. You've got the amulet, you don't need her anymore. Let her go."

"She still has the ability to ruin everything. The only reason I haven't killed her is because I'm saving that for Ramose. It seems that she is the descendent of the woman who trapped him in the first place. I figure he'll be happy to get revenge by killing her." Micky fought harder against his bonds knowing that meant that if he didn't do something, Isis would be killed by his hands, even if it was Ramose's will. "I said stop that," Mr. Manfred snapped angrily. Micky didn't listen to him, however and kept fighting. "If you don't cut that out and hold still, I'll kill one of your friends." Micky stopped immediately.

"Where are they?" Micky asked.

"I knew that would get you to stop. They're fine. For now. I've locked them in another room. If you do what I say, they'll stay that way. You make me angry, and I'll kill them."

"And what happens to them after I'm possessed?"

"Never mind that now. Just hold still."

"Why should I hold still if my friends are just going to die anyway?" Micky spat. He was starting to get angry again. He thought of the glass shattering in the main room and an idea popped into his head. Maybe if he could channel Ramose's power again, he could somehow use it to get himself free and then free Isis and his friends. He tried to summon all his anger. He forced his mind to relive everything that had happened in the last few days to make him angry. His friends being held at gunpoint in their car. Himself being held at gunpoint. Being nearly shot. Isis being stabbed and poisoned. Ramose using him to nearly choke Isis and kick Peter. Mike's bloody face. Isis's bruised neck and wrist. Peter's bruised stomach. The gun at the back of Peter's head.

While he was forcing himself to relive these moments, Mr. Manfred was moving about the room lighting torches on the wall. Micky thought if maybe the torches blew out, it would stall him. He tried to blow them out, but he didn't really know what he was doing. He'd seen Isis flick her hands when she did magic, so he tried that. It was hard to do with his hands tied down, however. He looked over at Isis, hoping that somehow he'd figure out what to do by looking at her. But she still hung there limp as a rag doll. He could tell she was awake; her eyes were open and she was looking at him. He wondered why she looked so weak. He closed his eyes and tried focusing on blowing out the torches. But when he opened his eyes again, he found it still hadn't worked.

Mr. Manfred came over to Micky and lifted his head to put the amulet he had now strung on a chain around his neck. He let it rest on Mickys chest and began speaking in a foreign language that Micky didn't understand. He fought even harder to try and stop this. He knew what was about to happen. He closed his eyes and focused all his anger and hatred, hoping that something would happen to stop this. But nothing happened. He felt something crawl on his arm and opened his eyes to look. He saw a metallic blue-green looking bug. He shrieked and tried to get it off him, but with his hand tied down, he couldn't really move a lot. Then the bug bit him and he cried out in pain. Mr. Manfred picked the bug up and put it in a jar and set it aside, still mumbling in a strange language.

"That hurt!" Micky cried out. "And was very gross. Was that completely necessary?" But Mr. Manfred ignored him. He looked at the bite and saw blood slowly coming from it. "That's so gross! Who knows what kind of diseases I'm going to get!" He was trying now to distract Mr. Manfred, but that didn't work either. He saw his blood drip down his arm and onto the table. He opened his mouth to speak again, but felt a heavy weight bear down on him, trapping his words in his mouth. He then felt very cold on his arm around the bite. Like someone had put an ice cube directly on top of it. The feeling traveled up the rest of his arm and down his fingers. Then the feeling enveloped his chest and moved through the rest of his body. He'd never felt so cold in his life. It was like he was being frozen from the inside out. The cold was so painful, but his chest was too frozen to make any groans of pain. Slowly he began to warm up, but he still felt heavy. When he'd finally thawed, he felt a jolt in his chest like he'd just stuck his finger in a powerful socket. He screamed in pain. Slowly, he began to feel numb. He felt nothing. No pain. No cold. No pressure. Nothing. He heard himself speak, but he knew he wasn't talking. It was over. Ramose had taken control of him.

"Finally," he said. "Untie me. Now."

"I will," Mr. Manfred replied. "But first, let's get a few things out of the way."

"Excuse me?"

"For instance, I have the spell that can put you back in that amulet. I'll destroy it if you do a few things for me."

"I don't take orders from anyone else."

"Not orders. Not really. I just would like a few things taken care of. As a favor for freeing you."

"How is it a favor if you are threatening to trap me again?"

"Incentive."

"What is it you want, exactly? Out of curiosity."

"A promise that when you are rightful ruler of this world, I can have a small piece."

"A small piece?"

"Yes. I'm thinking the North American continent. There's a lot about this world that has changed."

"I know what North America is. I have access over this boy's mind and memories. That's how I am speaking English, you dumb fool. Now, untie me."

"I'd also like powers of my own bestowed upon me. And riches. Do we have a deal?"

"Sure." Micky heard the same laugh in the back of his mind that he'd heard before and knew Ramose was lying. He tried to fight back. To control some small part of his body, but it was useless. He was a puppet. And Ramose was pulling the strings.

Mr. Manfred moved quickly to untie Micky. Once he was untied, Micky sat up. Well, Ramose made Micky sit up. It took a moment for him to orient himself. Once he was oriented, he got up off the table and looked over at Isis, still hanging limply in the corner. She looked so defeated now. Micky didn't want Ramose to kill her using his own hands. He tried screaming out not to hurt her, but he couldn't do anything.

"The girl is descended from the woman who imprisoned you," Mr. Manfred said noticing Micky looking at her. "I kept her alive as a present for you."

"I appreciate that," Micky said. "And so does this boy. He fancies her. What did you do to her? She looks weak."

"I gave her a sedative. She's awake and alert, but too weak to fight you."

"That's a pity. It's more fun when they fight. Take her down."

"Of course." Mr. Manfred moved to Isis and took a key out of his pocket before unlocking her. She fell limply against him. Micky walked over to her and held out his arm so he could take her.

"How long until the sedative wears off?" Micky asked.

"Probably eight to ten hours. Why?"

"So I know how long I have to wait. As for you…" Micky held out a hand and Mr. Manfred suddenly went flying through the door, shattering it to pieces with a loud crash. "I don't take orders from anyone." Micky picked Isis up and carried her in his arms out of the room, stepping over the now unconscious Mr. Manfred. Micky briefly saw blood begin to pool underneath him and wondered if he was unconscious or dead. Ramose didn't seem to care and made Micky walk out of the warehouse with Isis still in his arms, flinging any other goons that tried to stop him like they were dolls.

* * *

Peter absently rubbed his stomach. He regretted letting Mike see the bruise earlier that day. He had meant to keep it a secret, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire. Everyone had already been on edge. But he'd slipped up. While Micky had been sleeping, Peter had stretched and his shirt had lifted up slightly. Mike had seen the bruise and nearly dropped the soda he'd been drinking at the sight of it. Peter had tried to quickly pull down his shirt, but Mike walked over and nearly yanked his shirt off. Peter had lied to them and told them it hadn't hurt. Mike had asked where he'd gotten the bruise from, and Peter had told them it was where Micky had kicked him while under Ramose's control. Davy had tried telling him to ice it, but Peter had brushed them off saying he was ok. Mr. Manfred must have been listening at the door the whole time. It was still painful, but Peter was more worried about his other friends. And Peter felt disgusted that he had used it to hurt Micky. When he'd seen the look on Micky's face when he had seen the bruise, his heart shattered and Peter wanted to punch Mr. Manfred. And Peter was a pacifist. How dare he use Peter to hurt Micky?!

They'd been in this room for hours and no one had even so much as walked past the door. None of the three boys had moved. They'd tried coming up with alternative ideas to get themselves free, but none of the ideas had sounded like they'd work. Mike was still clutching the potion in his pocket that was currently the centerpiece of their only plan. Peter really didn't like sitting here waiting for something to happen, but it didn't seem like he had much choice. The door was wooden, but it was thick, sturdy, and solid. The three of them hadn't even dented it when they'd tried breaking it down. All they'd done is given themselves sore arms and shoulders.

Peter jumped when he heard a scream in the distance. So did Mike and Davy. They all exchanged looks when the recognized it as Micky. Peter's blood turned cold at the sound of it. It was a tortured scream.

"Micky," Mike breathed and his face paled.

"So much for not hurting him," Davy squeaked fearfully as they all jumped up and raced for the door again. Without needing to talk it over, all three tried shoving down the door again, but they still weren't even so much as denting it. Mike let out a guttural growl and pounded his fist against the door. Peter and Davy took a step back. Neither had really ever seen Mike like this.

"There has got to be a way to break this down!" Mike growled. He began furiously kicking at the door. Peter looked around the room again, desperately hoping for a tool they could use. Finally, something caught his eye in the far corner of the room. He ran over and found a shard of metal buried under a pile of dust. He picked it up and inspected it. It was sharp on the edges, but it was solid and thick enough to where maybe they could use it to pry open the door. He ran back over to Mike who was still furiously and futilely attacking the door.

"Mike, stop," Peter instructed. Mike looked at him and blinked in confusion. He looked at the piece of metal Peter held in his hand and stepped out of the way. Peter inspected the door, trying to find a good place to put it, but the construction on the door was masterful; the door showed no weakness.

"Try next to the handle," Davy suggested. Peter got down on his knees and began to try and push the shard into the small crack. At that moment, the three jumped again when they heard a loud crashing noise. They weren't sure what was going on, but knew they had to hurry. The crack wasn't wide enough for the shard to slip in easily, however. He knew he'd have to get a really good grip on the shard to wedge it in. If he did that, he knew the shard would slice his hand open. So he quickly pulled his shirt off and wrapped it around his hand to offer some sort of protection. He gripped the shard and pushed with every ounce of strength he had. Finally, it made it in far enough. He felt the fabric of his shirt tearing around his hand and knew he had to be quick. He now focused on pushing the shard in the opposite direction of the door. He heard popping noises as the pressure on the door caused it to splinter.

"It's working!" Davy exclaimed.

"Keep going, Pete!" Mike encouraged. But Peter felt the shirt finally tear all the way. With one last burst of strength, he pushed and the shard snapped, slicing his hand open through the tear in the shirt. He gasped in pain, but also saw that the door had cracked.

"Peter, you did it!" Davy exclaimed not seeing Peter's hand at first.

"Your hand," Mike said, seeing blood rush from the gash on his hand. Davy stopped cheering and looked painfully at Peter's hand.

"I'll be fine," Peter said, but he slumped the rest of the way to the ground clutching his hand and leaned against the wall trying unsuccessfully to wipe the look of pure pain off his face.

"Davy, break down the door," Mike instructed. It took Davy a second to tear his eyes away from Peter's bloody hand and do as Mike asked. Mike un-wrapped the now torn shirt from Peters hand and quickly tore it further so it was in pieces. He then tied the pieces together into a long strip and kneeled down next to Peter. Davy was making good progress on the door, but it was slow work with just one short person diving into it repeatedly. Peter briefly wondered why no one had come to try and make them stop.

"Peter, give me your hand," Mike instructed. "Stretch it flat." Peter did what Mike asked, but as soon as he did, pain shot through his hand causing him to see stars. He inhaled sharply and threw his head back against the wall, which didn't help much. "I know it hurts," Mike said trying to calm him. "This will just take a second." Mike wrapped the shirt around his hand tightly like a bandage to try and stop the bleeding. When he was done, Peter cradled his hand against his stomach. Davy finally burst the door open, and nearly fell on top of it, but quickly regained his balance.

"Whoa," Davy said. Mike and Peter stood up to see what he was looking at. Peter got up a little too fast, however, and lost his balance. Luckily Mike was right next to him and caught him. Mike wrapped his arm around Peter's waist to help him balance and the two followed Davy out into the main room of the warehouse. Peter now understood why no one had stopped them. All the goons were lying on the ground unconscious.

"We have to find Micky," Mike said.

"Why does something tell me Micky did this," Peter mused.

"If Micky did this, he would have freed us," Davy countered.

"Not if he wasn't in control of his actions," Mike corrected. Davy paled a little at the thought and Peter's stomach dropped. They'd all come to the same conclusion. Davy dashed down the hall that they had last seen Micky. Peter tried to follow, but as soon as he'd taken one step away from Mike, he nearly fell again.

"Not so fast, shotgun," Mike said. He wrapped his arm around Peter's waist again and threw Peter's arm over his shoulders so he could help him walk. Peter felt so dizzy he couldn't walk on his own. Davy came back before the two even made it to the hallway. He looked breathless and scared.

"Micky's not there," he reported. "But Mr. Manfred is on the ground bleeding and out cold. Isis is gone, too. It looks like they were in that side room and one of them was chained to a wall while the other tied to a table. You don't think he took her with him, do you?"

"That's what it looks like," Mike said. "Where do you think he would have gone?"

"I don't know, but we have to find them before Ramose makes Micky do something terrible."

"Davy, go see if the car is still in the lot," Mike said, fishing the keys out of his pocket and tossing them do Davy. Davy nodded and dashed off. Mike helped Peter limp out of the warehouse. Peter felt weaker with every step he took. Finally, they made it outside and Davy had brought the car to the front door so they wouldn't have to walk clear across the parking lot.

"Pete, we need to get you to a doctor," Mike said. Peter looked at his hand still held tightly against his stomach as if that would somehow take away the pain.

"Micky's more important," Peter argued.

"Davy, drive to the hospital," Mike said once all three were in the car, ignoring Peter. Davy nodded and drove off.

"We have to find Micky," Peter protested again.

"Peter, you can barely walk," Mike countered. "What good are you going to be to him like this?"

"Who knows how much time we have before Ramose forces Micky to…" his voice trailed off. He couldn't bring himself to speak the words.

"No one does," Mike agreed. "But you're not going to be of any help to him like this. That thing looked old and dirty. Who knows how much rust was all over that thing. You're in too much pain to even walk. You need a doctor. We aren't arguing over this. I'm dropping you and Davy off; then I'm going to go look for Micky." Peter opened his mouth to argue more, but Davy hit a bump in the road and pain seared through Peter's hand. He threw his head back against the seat and gasped in pain, once again seeing stars.

"Sorry!" Davy exclaimed. "It's dark, and I didn't see it! I'm sorry!"

"It's ok, Davy," Mike said for Peter. Peter was in too much pain to speak. "Just hurry."


	10. Trapped

Author's Note: Kinda a shorter chapter, but oh well. Read and review as always.

Chapter 10: Trapped

They hadn't driven very far, however, when Mike saw a man up the street carrying what looked like a limp woman. It was easy to see from Mikes spot next to Peter in the middle row with the top down on their Pontiac. The man was getting into a cab. Davy currently had the car stopped at a stop light, so they couldn't do much unless they wanted to run it. The man placed the woman gingerly into the cab before climbing in himself. The streets were so deserted in this area that Mike knew this had to be Micky and Isis. Could they really be that lucky? Apparently Davy had seen the same thing.

"Mike?" he said, turning in his seat to face Mike questioningly. Mike looked from the cab, to Davy and finally to Peter. He quickly weighed their options in his mind. He could get out now and try and hail another cab and follow them, but with the streets as barren as they were, he knew that wouldn't work. He'd lose Micky's cab before he could even hail another. They were too far from the hospital to have Davy help Peter walk there if Mike followed in the car. And Davy was too short to really help Peter walk anyway. No, they really only had one option, and unfortunately that meant leaving Peter to suffer. Mike hated that, but he knew what he had to do. If they didn't figure out a way to stop Micky, Isis would die. And so would a lot of other people. Possibly even them. Mike couldn't let that happen. No, Davy would have to follow the cab and when the cab stopped, Mike would get out and then Peter and Davy would go to the hospital.

"Do it," Mike said reluctantly. "Follow them."

"Huh?" Peter asked. He clearly hadn't seen them. Davy nodded and ran the light to follow the cab that was now pulling away.

"Peter, listen to me," Mike said turning to face Peter. "We have a slight change of plans. We found Micky."

"What a stroke of luck," Peter smiled, but Mike could still tell he was in a lot of pain. He was also starting to sweat rather heavily.

"Yeah," Mike agreed. "He got in a cab, so we're gonna follow him. Then I'm gonna get out and you and Davy are going to the hospital."

"I wanna help Micky," Peter mumbled.

"I know you do, good buddy, but you have to see a doctor. I hate even making this detour. You've done enough to help him right now. You got us out of that room. We wouldn't have done it without you. Now it's my turn, ok?" Peter mumbled something incoherent and his eyes seemed to glaze over. Mike looked worriedly over his shoulder at the cab in front of them. It didn't seem to be stopping soon. He looked back at his friend whose head now hung limply on his shoulders. Mike reached over and grabbed his friend's face, trying to meet his eyes.

"Peter!" he called. "Pete, come on. Wake up!"

"What happened?" Davy asked fearfully.

"I think he passed out. I really hope that cab stops soon." He turned back to his friend and felt his forehead. He felt normal, which Mike took as a good sign.

"Mike…Mike, do you really think you can do this alone? I mean, you saw those goons at the warehouse. Some of those guys were pretty big."

"I don't know, Davy, but Peter is in bad shape."

"No, I get that, and I want him to go to the hospital as much as you, but I'm thinking maybe you should wait before going up against him."

"Davy, there's no telling how long he's going to keep Isis alive. We have no idea what he's waiting for. Why he hasn't killed her. For all we know, he could be taking her somewhere in order to kill her ritualistically; I don't know. What I do know, is that I can't let him out of my sight and that Peter needs a doctor. Other than that, I'm gonna have to wing it."

"Ok, but promise me you'll hold back as long as you can. I know Micky would never hurt you, but I don't know how much control he has over himself right now."

"I promise." After a few minutes, Mike realized they were turning down their own street.

"Is he going to the pad?" Davy asked.

"Actually, it makes sense," Mike mused. "If he's tapped into Micky's memories, that's the most comfortable, safe place Micky knows." Sure enough, the cab stopped right in front of the pad. Mike instructed Davy to stop where they were near the end of the street. Mike said he'd run up to the pad so that Davy and Peter wouldn't be seen. His plan failed, however, as the engine on the car suddenly died.

"What-?" Davy asked stunned.

"Try restarting it!" Mike hissed, now extremely worried. They had to get Peter to the hospital. The shirt Mike had wrapped around his hand to act as temporary bandage was already soaked full of blood.

"I'm trying!" Davy exclaimed as he turned the key again and again. The car wasn't even trying to turn over. Mike climbed up to the front seat to try it himself, but it wouldn't start.

"Not good," Mike muttered.

"Neither is that," Davy said. Mike looked at him in confusion and saw his eyes were wide with fear staring out the windshield. Mike quickly followed his gaze and his stomach hit the floor. Micky was standing in front of the car carrying Isis in his arms. For a fleeting moment, Mike hoped that this really was their friend and that he had rescued Isis. But as soon as Mike saw the amulet hanging around Micky's neck, he knew better.

"Hello, boys," Micky said. Again, his voice sounded dark. It sent chills up Mike's spine. "Why don't you come inside and join us?" Mike didn't know what to do or say, but he was suddenly now kicking himself for skipping the hospital. He doubted Ramose would care too much about that. Mike stood up anyway trying to appeal to whatever small part of Micky may still be present in him and fighting for control.

"Peter needs a hospital," Mike said as confidently as he could.

"Well then why in the world did you follow me?" Micky smiled. Mike hated that smile. It wasn't Micky's; it was something dark and evil. Mike shuddered at the sight of it on his best friend's face.

"Look, I'll get out and go inside with you, but let Davy take Peter to the hospital."

"I insist you _all_ join us. Peter will be fine. I can heal him." Mike furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Why?" Mike asked. Micky just laughed and ignored him.

"Well, are you going to sit in that car all night, or are you going to come inside?" All of the doors to the car spontaneously opened at Micky's words. Micky turned and began walking back to the house.

"Mike, what do we do?" Davy whispered.

"I don't think he's going to let us leave," Mike said. "I don't know if this is some sort of trick or not, but we don't have much of a choice. If he says he can heal Peter, I want to let him. Maybe Micky is reaching him somehow."

"That looked nothing like Micky," Davy hissed back, but got out of the car nonetheless.

"I know," Mike answered as he moved to lift Peter. "I think I'm going to need help this time." Davy rushed around the side of the car to help lift Peter from the other side. They made it to the pad where Micky was waiting for them. He walked in ahead of them and laid Isis down gently on their couch.

"Set him in this chair," Micky instructed. His words were a strange mix of sweet and dark. Mike didn't understand it. It was as Micky motioned towards a chair in the living room that Mike noticed a small wound on Micky's arm. It was bright red and had dried blood around it.

"What's going on?" Mike asked as he and Davy set Peter in the chair. "Why haven't you killed Isis? And why did you say you were going to heal Peter? You better not be putting us on."

"Or what?" Micky asked, all sweetness gone now. "You're going to kill me? Ha! You're threats are empty to me, Mike. I know you won't kill me. You could never do anything to hurt me. And even if you did somehow manage to work up enough courage to do so, it doesn't matter. I'll just possess you instead." Mike froze. He had no leverage on this guy. He knew Mike couldn't do anything to hurt Micky. Once again, he didn't know what to do. Micky smiled again at Mike's silent reaction. "But to answer your question, I'm going to heal your friend, because I choose to. It's as simple as that."

Micky sat in a chair opposite Peter and took his hand. Mike stood, poised and ready to defend Peter at any second. Micky carefully unwrapped Peter's hand discarding the bloody shirt on the floor. The wound somehow looked worse, but Mike chalked it up to the lighting. Micky held Peter's outstretched hand for a few moments. Then Mike saw it begin to glow as though the cut had its own light source. Before he knew it, the wound had closed and the blood disappeared from Peter's hand.

"I don't understand," Mike said. "Why would you do that?"

"You are my friends," Micky answered.

"We're Micky's friends," Davy corrected. "You aren't Micky."

"We could be friends," Micky answered, standing up and turning to face them. Mike brushed past him and knelt down next to Peter.

"Pete?" Mike said softly wiping damp hair out of Peter's face. "Pete, if you can hear me, wake up. Please wake up." Peter groaned a little as he stirred awake.

"See?" Micky said. "Good as new!" Davy joined Mike, kneeling on the other side of Peter.

"Wha's go' 'n?" Peter mumbled.

"Peter, you're ok now," Mike said softly. "Sort of. We're at the pad. We found Micky. He…Ramose healed you."

"Why?" Peter asked, now a little more coherent.

"We aren't really sure."

"I told you why," Micky said.

"You want us to be friends with you?" Mike asked incredulously.

"You're a murderer!" Davy agreed. "We could never be friends with a murderer!"

"You call it murder, I call it…necessity," Micky answered as if they were talking about something as simple as a game of checkers. "Sometimes people just need to be removed from the equation in order for you to get what you want. Those who stand in the way must be knocked down. I gave every one I eliminated an opportunity to bequeath their position and power to me. They refused. I eliminated enemies. It's what you do in times of war."

"Are you saying you're a warlord?" Mike asked.

"I am a King. And I will do whatever it takes to take my rightful position. And what's a King without a few friends? Some…how do you say…right hand men? That's what I offer you. Positions of power on the throne next to me."

"Forget it," Peter spat.

"Dear boy, I just healed your hand, and you repay me with such insolence?"

"I never asked you to do that," Peter answered irritably.

"It's all too easy for me to undo it, Peter," Micky sneered.

"That won't be necessary," Mike said, quickly standing in front of Peter trying to shield him from further harm. He'd been through more than enough already today. Micky narrowed his eyes at him. The problem with any plan he'd formulate was that Ramose would probably be able to anticipate it because he had access to Micky's memories, which meant that Ramose now knew Mike as well as Micky did. "What exactly would being your right hand men entail?" Mike asked trying to stall.

"Power, fortune, and of course, any woman you choose," Micky answered simply. "But of course, you've all been offered that before and turned it down. So you would also have the option to live."

"Why exactly would you want us?" Davy asked picking up on the stalling plan. "We're not exactly good for anything except music."

"Sure you are," Micky answered with that creepy dark smile again that made Mike sick. "You underestimate yourselves. You are very cunning, smart, and think quickly on your feet. Why right now, you are stalling to try and formulate a plan to somehow stop me without hurting me. Am I right?" Micky paused, smiling at each of them before sinking confidently into a chair next to Isis on the couch. "It won't work. But I commend you for trying. Your efforts are very valiant. Which brings me to the most important asset you share. Loyalty. You are all incredibly loyal to each other."

"What makes you think we'd be that loyal to you?" Peter asked.

"Because the alternative is death."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather die than do anything to help you. You're nothing but a lying, murdering…"

"Peter," Mike hissed cutting him off before he said something very un-Peter like. "Let's not jump to conclusions here. How exactly do you plan on becoming king?" Micky chuckled a little. He seemed very amused.

"Still trying to stall?" Micky asked. "Tell you what, I'll humor you because I know there's nothing you can do to me. Or nothing you'd be willing to do, anyway. There are a few things I need to take care of first. I am not going to go on a murderous rampage, if that's what you're thinking. I don't kill for the fun of it, contrary to popular belief. I only kill when I have to. The first thing I need to do is secure the rest of my power. That man who brought me back said he had a spell to reverse it. Put me back in this amulet. I need to make sure that doesn't happen. Do you realize how boring it is to be locked up for 4,000 years? I couldn't even interact with the world for most of it. Not until your friend here held the amulet. A true taste of the world after being buried under sand for thousands of years. I am not going back to that."

"I can't imagine how terrible that must have been," Mike said. "I can see why you're angry. What is it you want us to do?"

"Help me find a spell to secure my stay in this body." Micky waved his hand and the duffel bag full of books that belonged to Isis appeared at Mike and Davy's feet. "I can't touch those. They're magically protected against me."

"Alright," Mike said. Peter began to protest, but Mike held up a hand. He'd finally thought of something. He knew the others wouldn't like his plan, so he dove in before either Davy or Peter could argue or come up with something else. "On one condition. You switch bodies. Take mine instead." Mike looked hard at his friend hoping to judge the reaction. He thought he saw a spark of life and spirit in his friend's eyes for a split second. A spark of the true Micky. But it was gone within a second.

"No," Micky said, waving off the idea with a chuckle. "I happen to like this body. And it would seem that if I did that, your friend would be very angry and very guilty. Do you really want that? Your friend living the rest of his life guilt-ridden?"

"Of course I don't," Mike answered. "I'm just trying to save him."

"Save him from what? He's still alive. I promise you. He's yelling rather loudly and won't shut up. Especially after your offer. Noble and brave though it may have been. But Micky says he'd never forgive himself if I allowed that to happen." Micky stood up and yawned. "It's late. I'll make you an offer. Think it over while you sleep. If you help me, you'll live and I'll reward you for your efforts. But I insist that you at least stay until morning." Micky raised his arms and Mike felt a sudden pressure in the air. Once the pressure was lifted, Micky lifted Isis off the couch and began walking to his room with her.

"Wait," Peter said. "What's wrong with her? What did you do?"

"I didn't do this," Micky answered without stopping. "She was apparently given a sedative and will be fine come morning. Not to worry. I don't plan on hurting her. I suggest you get some sleep." Without waiting for a response, Micky entered his room and closed the door behind him. Davy ran to the front door, but as Mike suspected, it wouldn't open.

"Why won't this open?" Davy asked angrily. Mike walked over to the broken bay window. The glass was on the floor still, but Mike couldn't see the hole anymore. It had been repaired. He tried opening the door, but it wouldn't budge either. They were locked in their own house.

"My guess is he sealed us in here somehow," Peter said. "That must be what that pressure was."

"So what do we do?" Davy asked returning to the living room where Peter remained seated. "Mike, tell me you have a plan."

"Other than offering yourself up in trade," Peter added looking at him with a slight amount of annoyance.

"That _was_ my plan," Mike said slumping into a chair in the living room. "Unless we can find something in these books to help us, I got nothing."

"Well, let's start looking," Davy said pulling a book out of the bag for each of them to thumb through.

"Peter, how do you feel?" Mike asked.

"Scared," Peter answered.

"We all are. I meant your hand."

"It doesn't hurt at all," Peter answered curling and uncurling his fist for emphasis. "It's like it didn't even happen."

"Good." Mike leaned back in his chair, the book Davy had given him lying unopened in his lap. He felt helpless. They'd gotten into very tight spaces dozens of times, if not hundreds, but there was always a way out. Micky was better at thinking under pressure than the others because his mind just worked so much faster. Micky had come up with the plan to show Princess Bettina she was in danger. He'd come up with the plan to distract their fake kidnappers that turned out to be real so they could escape. Where Micky had gotten nitroglycerin, Mike still didn't know. Micky had impersonated his double Babyface flawlessly. Micky had come up with the plan to dupe the High Class Music buffoon who'd swindled Mike. Micky had thought to dress up as their chaperone so Davy could have a chance at the girl he'd liked. He'd made it out of a shootout with El Diablo unscathed. He'd reversed the switcheroo science experiment they'd undergone to give their musical abilities to a Frankenstein monster. He'd pretended to be a dead man to save an old woman from getting her fortune defrauded. Micky had come up with a plan to save Mike and Davy in that ghost town. Granted, that one had failed, but he'd quickly and easily come up with another plan to dig their way out of the jail. Even though that plan failed, too, it showed Micky's ability to think quickly.

Mike had come up with a few plans, too. Like the time he'd saved Peter from the devil. Even Davy and Peter had saved the day a few times. Peter had figured out how to prove their innocence when they were on trial for armed robbery of a bank. Davy had found the way to reverse the power of the monkey's paw that had cursed Micky. But right now, Mike really wanted Micky to be sitting here next to him. Micky was always there for his friends. There'd been times Mike had gone home and left Davy and Peter with Micky where'd they'd gotten into trouble, but the three of them had figured out a way to get out of it. Mike ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he wasn't useless. The three of them had come up with ways to get out of sticky situations individually. They could do it again. Mike just couldn't help but feel like he was letting Micky down. Micky probably would have thought of something a long time ago. Micky probably would have made Davy take Peter to the hospital so they wouldn't have ended up trapped in their own house. He would have run as fast as he could after the cab. Heck, he probably would have even thought to check the pad as the first place to go.

"What do you think he's planning on doing with Isis?" Peter asked snapping Mike out of his reverie.

"I don't know, but it worries me," Davy answered. "He must know who she is. You'd think he'd want revenge." Mike got up and crept slowly up the stairs to Micky's room. He'd planned on trying to eavesdrop to see if he could figure out what was happening to Isis, if anything. He'd barely made it to the door, however, when he heard Micky yell from the other side.

"I said go to sleep!" he yelled. Mike suddenly felt very tired. He curled up on the floor outside Micky's room and fell asleep.

When he woke up hours later, he looked down into the living room. Davy and Peter had fallen asleep, too. The books they were looking at still in their laps. Mike pushed himself up off the floor and made his way downstairs. Peter and Davy woke up as he reached the living room. They both yawned and stretched as though they'd slept normally, but Mike knew that wasn't a normal sleep. Mike checked his watch to discover it was nearly 8 am. They'd slept all night. And that meant they hadn't worked on a plan to rescue Micky. Which is exactly what Ramose wanted.

"Did we go to sleep?" Davy asked.

"Yeah," Mike answered. "I think we had a little help with that, though." He motioned towards Micky's room.

"That's not good," Peter said. "If he can make us all go to sleep, who knows what else he can do."

"How did you boys sleep?" Micky asked from the top of the stairs. Mike, Davy and Peter fell silent. Micky carried Isis down the stairs.

"I thought you said she'd be better by morning?" Davy asked.

"I was only told the sedative would last eight to ten hours," He replied setting her back on the couch. "It's only been about 7 or so. I'm sure she'll be her normal self soon."

"And what are you planning on doing with her after that?" Peter asked.

"Relax," Micky laughed. "I'm not going to hurt her."

"Why not?" Mike asked. "You must know who she is."

"I do, and that doesn't bother me. It was her ancestor I have the grudge with. Not her."

"But she wants to put you back," Peter said without thinking. Mike shot Peter a look warning him not to remind him of that.

"That may be so," Micky answered ignoring the exchange and sitting into a chair. "But she won't be able to once you boys find the spell to secure me to this body. The only way to trap me after that would be to kill me. And I know none of you are going to let that happen."

"We never agreed to help you," Davy pointed out.

"Pity."

"What is?" Mike asked.

"That I might have to call some very good boys enemies. It's a shame to let your talents go to waste. Musically and otherwise." Micky stood up looking slightly menacing. Mike didn't want to know what he was planning.

"Hold it!" Mike said, inserting himself between Micky and his other friends. He'd die before he let anything happen to them. "We didn't say we wouldn't help you either. We didn't have much time to think about it." Micky smiled a little and sat back down. Mike breathed a sigh of relief. They would just have to keep drawing this out as much as they could until they figured out a way to put Ramose back in the amulet. If that meant pretending to help him, that's what they'd do.

"Mike?" Davy asked looking at him quizzically.

"Well, we don't have much of a choice here, do we?" Mike said looking at his friends trying to convince Davy and Peter to play along. He turned back to face Micky. "I'm not ready to say I'm going to stand next to you on the throne or anything, but you're gonna kill us if we don't help you, right? I want to live. And I want Peter and Davy to live. And as long as you're alive, Micky's alive, right? So we kind of don't have a choice, do we?" Micky nodded knowing he'd successfully back them into a corner. "I just have one question for you yet. If you aren't going to kill Isis, what _are_ you going to do with her?" Micky smiled again. Wide, evil and dark. Mike shuddered again at the sight of it.

"I told you, every king needs friends," He answered. "Well, every king also needs a wife."


	11. The Plan

Author's Note: Let me know what you think! Thanks for all the support.

Special thanks to Plush Chrome for help on this chapter!

Chapter 11: The Plan

Peter couldn't believe his ears. His jaw dropped at the revelation. Ramose was keeping Isis alive so he could force her into marriage? There was no way that Isis would marry this guy willingly. Judging by Mike and Davy's silence, they were just as stunned. Peter watched as Micky gently brushed Isis's hair out of her face and continued talking. Peter felt the strong urge to yell at him not to touch her, but was too stunned to speak.

"She really is beautiful," he said. "Just like her ancestor. Her name is very befitting. Isis is a goddess. She is the mother and wife of every pharaoh to ever take the throne. Being named after the goddess suits her. Even your friend is drawn to her. Yes, Isis will make the perfect wife and even the perfect mother."

"Mother?!" Davy sputtered. Peter was even more flabbergasted. And he hadn't even known that was possible.

"You…" Mike stuttered. "You can't force her to marry you."

"Force?" Micky asked as though it were a stupid thing to say.

"Yes, force," Davy affirmed. "There's no way she's going to marry you of her own accord."

"You speak as though women have any choice," Micky laughed.

"They do," Peter growled, finding his voice.

"Not in my day. If a man, especially a member of the royal family, chose you as his wife, you complied."

"Times have changed, buddy," Mike spat.

"That's what's so great about being a king," Micky smiled. Peter wanted to smack that smile off his face, but didn't want to hurt his friend at the same time. "You can change things back to the way they were. You take what you want, when you want it."

"Tell me you didn't touch her last night," Mike growled taking a step towards Micky, clenching his fists and looking very menacing for the first time.

"Relax," Micky said. "There's no amusement in doing anything with a nearly lifeless woman. Besides, what would you do to me if I had?" Micky teased.

"I think it'd be a pretty safe bet that Micky would forgive me for it," Mike snarled. Micky paused for a second, seeming to think this over. But he chose to ignore it.

"You sure you boys slept well?" he said. "You all seem to be wound very tightly."

"Of course we're wound tight," Davy said. Peter noticed Davy looked as though he were about to start foaming at the mouth. Not that Peter could really blame him. "How could we not be with what you just told us? You're an even worse person than I thought."

"So does this mean you aren't going to help me?"

"We're still going to look for that spell," Mike said. "We have to. You really aren't leaving us a choice." Peter hated that. But he knew Mike was right. If they were going to figure out a way to put Ramose back in the amulet where he belonged, they were going to have to play along for a while longer.

"Good. I must warn you, however, that if you try to pull anything, you'll regret it. Not that you could really do much to hurt me. You'd only be hurting your friend if you tried. I remind you that should anything happen to this body, I can just as easily inhabit another." Peter felt an overwhelming sense of despair. What were they going to do? They'd missed their chance in the night to try and find a spell to put him back. Now he wasn't sure if they'd be able to while being watched. They certainly couldn't discuss any more ideas. Peter sighed and reopened the book that he had been looking through the night before. Mike sat down with another book, but Peter saw he was still tense. Davy waited a moment as though he wanted to say something as well, but decided to bite his tongue and began flipping through his book again as well.

Peter looked at the pages, but wasn't really seeing them. His mind was racing. They were failing his best friend. They weren't able to help him. And if they didn't think of something soon, Micky would be forced to do horrible things to dozens of people. Including Isis. He knew Micky. Micky had one of the biggest hearts of anyone he knew. He knew that if Ramose hurt anyone while in Micky's body, Micky would be devastated beyond belief. Even though it wouldn't be Micky's fault, he would still feel the guilt. It would destroy him. And that would destroy Peter. He felt his eyes welling up with tears at the mere thought of what Micky must be going through. He wanted so desperately to save him. He wanted so desperately to just look up and see his friend smiling back at him with that warm, infectious smile. He wanted to see his friend start bouncing off the walls again. He wanted his friend back and hated the fact that he didn't know how to do it.

He felt a small tear slide down his face and quickly wiped his eyes. He didn't want Micky to see him crying. He knew that would only make Micky feel worse, so he quickly got up and walked silently to the bathroom. Once inside, he closed the door behind him and leaned against the door. After a moment, he felt his knees weaken and he slowly sunk to the ground. He could hear the conversation in the living room on the other side of the door.

"Sit down," he heard Micky say.

"I want to check if he's ok," Mike argued.

"He went to the bathroom," Micky pointed out. "Wouldn't that indicate that he needs to use the bathroom? Why would you need to check on him?"

"He looks upset," Davy answered. Peter rested his head on his knees. Why did Davy have to say that? Didn't he realize the whole reason he came in here was so that Micky wouldn't know he was upset?

"I really don't care," Micky said. "You both have a job to do. Sit down." Peter heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor followed by a small yelp of surprise from Mike. Peter closed his eyes and let the tears flow. At so many times in their lives, they'd been cowards; willing to back down and run away at the smallest hint of danger. But they'd never been able to just walk away when someone they cared about was in danger. Especially one of them. When Davy had been whisked away by Ma and Jud, Peter felt terrified, but Micky and Mike had pulled up their bootstraps, wiped away their fear and rescued their friend.

Peter was reminded of the time Micky had been kidnapped by the Dragon Man. He felt so guilty then knowing that they had been after him. He had gone to the Chinese restaurant hoping to get captured in exchange for Micky. The same thing Mike had just done. Peter had been angry at Mike when he suggested that Ramose take him instead. Now he felt guilty for being mad when he'd done the same thing. What right did he have to be mad at Mike? But then he realized that his anger was just being displaced. He wasn't really angry at Mike. He was angry at Ramose. He was angry at Mr. Manfred. He was so focused on his thoughts that he jumped a little when he heard a voice in his head that didn't belong to him.

_Peter,_ said a female voice in his head.

"Wha-?" Peter mumbled.

_Peter, be quiet_, came the voice again. _It's me; Isis. Don't be alarmed. I'm speaking to you telepathically. Just think and I'll hear you. If you speak, it'll alert Ramose. _Peter was confused, but went with it anyway.

_What's going on? _He thought.

_I'm trying to help. I couldn't do this before because I don't want to risk tipping Ramose off to what we're doing. If he sees a startled reaction from one of you, he'll know we're up to something. I know you're upset and scared, but you have to listen to me. We don't have a lot of time. He's not exactly patient. I'm surprised he's lasted this long without doing something. But I also suspect he's weak and he can't use his magic that much without weakening himself further. That makes it easier to deal with him. _

_What do we do? _Peter thought.

_There's a spell in that book you're looking at to put him back in the amulet. It'll be hard, but we can do it. I can disguise one of the spells in the books temporarily to look like the spell he wants. He's going to have you start the preparations, but only I can perform the spell. I'll make the fake spell be similar to the spell I need, so you can do the preparations. There's a potion that needs to be made, so I can make the fake spell reflect that. All but one herb. If he sees that, he'll know what we're doing. I'll have to put it in later. I'll pretend to do the one he wants me to, but you guys have to distract him long enough for me to find and do the real spell. _

_How do we do that?_

_That I don't know. But it'll be dangerous. You have to know that now._

_I don't care. I'll do anything to save Micky. I said it before; I'd stick my arm in the fire for Micky. I'd even die for him. _

_Ok, go back out there and look through the books. Draw it out a little. If you find the spell too quickly, he might suspect something. That and I need the sedative to be worn off further in case something goes wrong. I'll twitch my fingers when I'm ready. Then bring it over to him and drop it. Make sure it lands by my hands. I can't disguise the spell unless it's close enough to me. Then pick it up and show it to him. He'll make you start the preparations. _

_How do we inform Mike and Davy of the plan?_

_I don't know. I'll think of something. Are you going to be ok to do this?_

_I…I think so. _Peter wasn't quite sure if he could do this. He still felt terribly guilty, but now he had a plan. He would force himself to focus on that. If he didn't focus on this plan, he could lose his best friend forever. Peter forced himself to stand up. His legs were still shaky, but he pushed that away and ignored it. He leaned over the sink and turned the faucet on. He wanted to clean the tears from his face. He hoped that would give him the strength to do what he needed to do.

He grabbed the hand towel and wiped his face dry before taking a deep breath and opening the door. He walked back out into the living room, meeting his friend's eyes and trying to silently convey to Mike and Davy he was ok. He looked at Isis lying on their couch. She looked weak still, but he could see in her eyes that she was trying to tell him the same thing. Davy looked at Peter questioningly. Peter smiled at him to try and get him not to question anything. He did the same thing with Mike. He really wanted to tell them that he had a plan now and that hopefully everything would be ok. But he couldn't. He looked at Micky before sitting back down in his chair. Micky looked at Peter a little questioningly as well.

"Sorry," Peter offered, trying to dissuade any feelings of suspicion. "I really had to go." Without another word, Peter flipped open the book again and started to peruse it. He quickly stole a glance at Micky and his other friends to make sure that Micky still wasn't suspicious. Davy shook his head a little and began looking through his own book. Mike took a few seconds longer to look at Peter, but he too went back to thumbing through his book. Micky sat across from Peter looking smug. Peter breathed a sigh of relief quietly, hoping that no one would pick up on it.

Over the next couple of hours, no one really said anything. Micky had waved his hand once to make food appear on the table for them, but neither Mike, Davy, nor Peter felt all that hungry, so it was only Micky that ate. While he was doing this, Peter tried to find a way to tell Mike and Davy that he had a plan, but couldn't. Once when Micky's back was turned, Peter looked over at Mike who suddenly whipped his head to look over at Isis. Peter smiled, thinking that, judging by the stunned and confused expression on his face, Isis had taken the opportunity to speak to Mike telepathically. Sure enough, Mike looked at Peter and nodded for a second. Peter hoped Isis would also be able to tell Davy, but Micky turned back to look at all of them and Mike and Peter had to bury themselves back into the books. Now they just needed to tell Davy somehow.

That opportunity came about half an hour later when Davy had to use the bathroom, too. He had come back with a small smile on his face. Peter assumed Isis had told him of the plan, too. Peter looked back at the book, now waiting for Isis to give him the signal. Her eyes seemed to be moving around a lot more, so Peter assumed it was only a matter of minutes now. How exactly they were going to distract Micky long enough for Isis to do the spell she needed to do still escaped Peter. He hoped it wouldn't have to come down to actually hurting Micky. But something in the back of Peter's mind told him that it may have to come to that. And that Micky would forgive them once he was safe and de-possessed.

* * *

Mike felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him. They had a plan now. It all rested on Peter, and Mike knew Peter wouldn't fail. When he'd first heard Isis's disembodied voice echoing through his head, it had scared him. He'd looked at her quickly expecting to see her lips moving, but was shocked when they weren't. She hadn't really told him the details of the plan, just that she and Peter had worked one out when he was in the bathroom. All Isis had told him was that she had given Peter instructions and that when the time was right, all three of them would have to distract Ramose so that Isis could perform the spell needed to put him back in the amulet.

Not long after Davy returned from the bathroom, clearly also now aware of the plan, Mike saw Isis flick her hand out of the corner of his eye. Mike got a glimmer of hope thinking that meant she was stirring and coming out of her stupor. Peter, however, immediately tensed up. Mike thought this was odd, but soon figured out that this must have been a signal to put their plan into action.

"I…I think…um…I think I found something," Peter said, stumbling over his words nervously. Micky perked up and seemed to ignore the stumbling.

"Bring it here," he instructed. Once again, the coldness behind his best friend's voice sent shivers down Mike's spine. He couldn't wait until all this was over and he could hear Micky's infectious laughter that he missed so terribly. Peter nodded and stood up. When he got close to Micky and Isis, he tripped and the book fell to the ground, landing just under Isis's hand. Mike recognized this as a deliberate action, but Ramose apparently chalked it up to Peter's somewhat usual clumsiness.

"Sorry," Peter said as Micky rolled his eyes.

"Just pick it up and bring it here!" Micky barked. Mike had to fight against the feeling of anger surging through his chest. In any other situation, Mike wouldn't let anyone get away with talking to Peter like that. But he had to let this play out. He wasn't supposed to distract Micky until Isis was ready to perform the spell. He saw for a split second the page on the book glow and it seemed as though the words and letters scattered around the page to form a different configuration. Micky didn't see this as he was still glaring at Peter. Peter quickly picked up the book and showed it to Micky. A large, sadistic looking smile marred Micky's face. Mike shuddered again.

"Is this what you wanted?" Peter asked.

"Excellent," Micky answered. "Yes, good job, Peter. I want you boys to begin the preparations immediately. As soon as Isis comes around, she'll perform the spell for me."

"How are you planning on making her?" Mike asked, trying to wean as much information as he could to try and formulate a distraction plan.

"If she doesn't, I'll kill one of you," Micky answered smugly. Fear rushed through Mike once again. He knew that Isis was going to pretend to do this spell, but what if their distraction didn't work? What if he picked up on it and tried to kill one of them? What if he succeeded? Mike forced himself to not dwell on that. He resolved right then and there that he would be the one leading the distraction. If something were to backfire and go wrong, he would be the one to be injured. He just couldn't live with himself if something happened to Davy, Peter or Micky. He looked at Peter and Davy, who both looked scared once again.

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Davy squeaked.

"We'll see," Micky smiled. "Start the preparations. Now!" Micky barked making all three boys jump into action. Mike and Davy walked over to where Peter was standing and looked at the book. Mike read the steps they would need to do before the spell was supposed to be cast. There was a list of herbs listed there that they would need and several candles. None of which they had. What creeped Mike out the most was that the spell called for a scarab beetle.

"We don't have these things," Mike said.

"And what is a scarab beetle?" Davy asked.

"It's a bug," Peter answered.

"Gross! Why do we need it?" Davy asked.

"The scarab beetle is sacred in Egypt," Micky answered. "It symbolizes new life. It's used in most rituals of this caliber. Where do you think I got this wound from?" Micky asked showing them the red spot on his arm. Upon looking at it again, Mike did agree that it looked like a large bug bite.

"A beetle bit you?" Davy asked. "That's gross! Do you know how many diseases bugs carry?"

"It's a necessary part of the ritual. Having an open wound allows for the soul to pass through easier. The fact that the scarab symbolizes rebirth, makes the ritual more effective if the blood is drawn by it."

"It's still gross," Davy mumbled.

"Where are we supposed to get the beetle?" Mike asked ignoring Davy.

"Nor do we have the money for this other stuff," Peter added.

"You don't really need to worry about that," Micky answered standing up. He waved his hand again and a box full of candles appeared by Mike's feet and a bag full of herbs appeared at Peter's. Davy shrieked when a jar with a large bug with a metallic shell inside it appeared in his hand. He jumped back and dropped the jar to the ground. About an inch above the floor it stopped and hovered for a moment. Mike looked at Micky whose hand was outstretched towards the jar. With a flick of his wrist, the jar was set on the table safely. "If that had shattered, you'd be hunting this house for a bug," Micky said angrily.

"Well then why did you give it to me!?" Davy shrieked.

"I thought it'd be funny," Micky laughed. "And it was. Now, start setting up." Mike dug through the box of herbs while Peter read off the list of what they needed. They were going to have to mix them in some sort of potion. Mike didn't really know what he needed to do, but he had seen Isis make the paralytic potion in the kitchen back at Mr. Williams's house so he sort of had an idea. He gathered the necessary herbs and brought them into the kitchen with Peter and Davy.

"It says these need to be cut up," Mike said handing one of the herbs to Davy. Davy nodded and took them from Mike before grabbing a knife and cutting them. Peter grabbed a pot and began boiling some water that they would need later. Not long after they started, they heard Isis moan. All four men turned to look and see her sitting up on the couch.

"Glad you could join us, sweetheart," Micky said with a smile.

"Don't call me that," she snapped back.

"Feisty," Micky said. "I like that." Micky reached out to touch her face, but she slapped it away.

"Don't make me hurt you," she sneered. Micky just laughed.

"You'll come around," Micky said. Mike clenched his fists slightly. He wanted to punch Ramose, but knew he would only be punching Micky. He really hated the situation they were in. "How are you boys doing over there?"

"Almost done," Peter said. He looked the same way Mike felt. Mike looked at Davy who also looked to be seething a little.

"Good, I want to get this done with so I can have myself a little fun." Davy took a step forward as though he wanted to do something, but Mike held out his arm to stop him and Peter rushed in front.

"Davy, calm down," Peter whispered. "We can't do anything right now. It'll be over soon." Davy nodded and relaxed a little, but still shot a dirty look in Micky's direction.

"Now, sweetheart, I'm assuming you've been hearing everything," Micky said. Isis glared at him as he called her 'sweetheart' again. "Which means you know what I want you to do. Am I right?"

"You want me to cast a spell to permanently seal you in Micky's body," Isis answered.

"Correct, and if you don't, I'll kill one of them," Micky added pointing at the Mike, Davy and Peter in the kitchen.

"Well, I don't have much choice then, do I?" Isis answered. It didn't take much longer before they had finished. Davy had placed the candles in a circle on the floor. Mike was starting to get nervous now as he watched Davy light them. How were they going to distract Micky and keep him in that circle of candles? Peter and Davy both exchanged nervous glances with each other as well. Mike steeled himself by taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a second. He realized that when it came down to it, he might have to hurt his friend. The thought killed him. But it was better than the alternative. And he vowed he would only do it as a last resort. He looked at Peter and Davy in turn. They both silently told him they were feeling the same exact thing.

Micky moved to sit in the circle as Davy lit the last of the candles. Peter moved to hand him the potion he was supposed to drink, but Isis moved in front of him and stopped him temporarily. She put her hand over the glass and Mike saw something drop into it. She'd added something to it and luckily Micky didn't see anything. Mike wasn't sure what, but trusted her. She placed a comforting hand on Peter before moving to her place in front of the book. Micky drank the potion and closed his eyes. Now was the time to distract him. Mike hadn't worked a plan out really, but they'd done things on the fly before and succeeded. Mike positioned himself between Isis kneeling on the floor and Micky sitting in the circle of candles.

"Now wait a minute, here," Mike said forcing himself to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. Micky's eyes snapped open and an expression of anger flashed across his friend's features. Mike pushed on as he heard Isis flipping through the book behind him to try and find the proper spell to seal Ramose back into the amulet. "I want to work a few things out first."

"Like what?" Micky growled.

"You said that you'd make us your right-hand men, right?" Mike said. "Well, what happens to us if we don't want that?"

"Why does that matter right now!?" Micky barked. "Just do the spell, Isis!"

"Not just yet," Mike said. "If you're just going to kill us once the spell is completed, then why should we help you?" Mike heard Isis begin mumbling behind him and he spoke a little louder to try and drown her out. "I mean, you're threatening to kill us if Isis doesn't do the spell, so what if we just let you? If we let you kill us, then what? Isis won't do the spell for you; you won't get your permanent ride, and you run the risk of being put back in the amulet. I want a promise that you won't kill us."

"You're annoying me," Micky growled. "I can easily arrange for you to die right now."

"Ok, but doesn't that take away your leverage? If you kill me now, how are you going to force Isis to do the spell?"

"You have a death wish or something?"

"No, I'm just having second thoughts."

"Second thoughts?"

"So am I," Peter said moving behind Micky and forcing him to turn away from Mike and Isis to face Peter. "I say you go ahead and kill us now. Be done with it. I'd rather die than let you win."

"Do you know how guilty that would make your friend feel?" Micky sneered.

"I don't think any of us cares right now," Davy added standing next to Peter. "What concerns us is the safety of our friend. What happens to him once this spell is over? What happens to his soul?"

"It dies," Micky laughed. Mike's stomach dropped. He didn't know that. But it made sense.

"Yeah, we aren't going to let that happen," Mike said. "You'll have to kill us first."

"I told you, that can easily be arranged," Micky said whirling upon Mike. His face was now contorted into something almost inhuman. Mike took an involuntary step back out of shock. Micky's eyes flashed down to Isis on the floor behind Mike and realization hit him.

"You…" he roared. He jumped out of the circle towards Mike and Isis. Mike quickly stood to block Micky from doing anything to Isis, but he might as well have been a twig blocking a giant. Micky flicked his wrist and Mike felt himself being hurled across the room as if he'd been hit by a car. He crashed into the table, breaking it. Shattered pieces of wood rained down on him.

"Mike!" Davy and Peter called. Pain seared through his whole body and he felt his body trying to shut down against it. He couldn't allow himself to pass out now. He looked up and saw Davy rushing to his side as Peter rushed to try and tackle Micky. Peter failed miserably though. Micky reached Isis who held a hand out. He seemed to be temporarily blocked, as if he'd hit a wall. Peter crashed into him, not expecting Micky to stop. Micky grabbed Peter and threw him across the room as well as if Peter were a rag doll. Mike forced himself to stand up.

"Davy, forget me. Protect Isis," Mike said through gritted teeth. He was in pain, but knew he had to push past it. "Whatever happens, protect her. She's all we've got to save Micky. No matter what; you hear me?"

"Mike…" Davy said.

"I'm fine," Mike lied. "Go!" he yelled. Without waiting for an answer, Mike rushed toward Micky and, because Micky was focused on trying to get past the invisible wall protecting Isis, succeeded in tackling him to the ground. Micky growled in anger and punched Mike. Mike reared back in pain, causing Micky to be able to shove him off. Mike tried to get up, but felt Micky push him to the ground. His head bounced off the floor and once again, his body tried to shut itself down from the pain. He closed his eyes against the pain, but refused to let himself pass out. He forced his eyes open just in time to see a very large, very sharp knife appear in Micky's hand. He grabbed Micky's wrist as Micky tried to bring it to Mike's throat trying desperately to wrench his hand away from Mike, but Micky was stronger than him. Within seconds he felt the cold steel touch his throat.


	12. Freedom

Author's Note: Let me know what you think!

Chapter 12: Freedom

Micky screamed as loud as he could against everything that was happening. But he couldn't control his own body. His screams were useless. There had been one moment where he thought he had gotten through. When Mike had asked Ramose to switch bodies; to take him instead. Micky had tried so hard to come through and tell Mike not to do that, but he hadn't been able to. Before he could make his body say or do anything, Ramose had taken control again. He had screamed then, too. It had taken Ramose off guard, but only for a half a second. Not nearly enough time for Micky to do anything. But he was almost certain Mike had seen a change in him. If he could do it then, he could do it now. Now, when he needed to do it the most.

When he'd seen Mike fly into the table, he had begun fighting again. Trying desperately to push through. To make his feet stop moving. It had been useless, though. He'd stopped, but only because Isis had somehow put up an invisible wall to protect herself. He'd then felt Peter crash into him and tried hard to force his body to stop, but that hadn't worked either. Peter had gone flying across the other side of the room. Micky felt like crying now. Ramose was hurting his friends and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it, even though it was by his own hands. He felt Mike crash into him and momentarily Ramose faltered again. Micky tried to do something, but Ramose pushed back and punched Mike. Before he knew it, Ramose was forcing Micky's body to attack Mike, pushing him to the ground. It got worse when he realized Ramose was trying to conjure a knife. Micky fell to pieces when he saw the large blade appear in his own hand and move towards his friend's throat. He could feel Mike's neck underneath the blade. Micky could feel Mike's hands trying desperately to wrench the knife away, but Micky was stronger. He could see the sheer panic-filled terror in his friend's eyes.

"_No_!" Micky yelled inside his own head. "_No, no, no, no! I won't let you do this! I won't let you kill him!_" He screamed and tried to fight. He tried to pull his arm back, away from his friend's throat. It seemed to work. For a moment, the knife merely hovered over Mike's throat. Ramose was trying to force it down; Micky was trying to force it up. But Micky could still feel the blade touching his friend's skin.

"Stop it!" Ramose yelled with Micky's voice. Ramose was yelling out loud, not in Micky's head like he had been. "Stop fighting me, you insolent little whelp!"

"_NO_!" Micky screamed again. He felt a small tear slide down his cheek and knew he was somehow regaining a bit of control. He had to keep fighting. He couldn't let Mike get hurt. "I won't let you kill Mike!" he heard himself yell. And he really yelled it. He was coming through. He felt something smash against the back of his head. He fell forward, dropping the knife. Once he had recovered, Ramose had taken over again. He whirled around to see Peter standing behind him with a broken lamp in his hand.

"Peter, run!" Micky heard Mike shout. Peter jumped out of the way as Ramose lunged for him. Ramose let out a growl of anger, but turned his attention back to Mike, who was still on the ground, coughing and gasping for air. Ramose raised his hand and the knife flew back into his grip. Micky fought against him again, trying to take over. He tried to drop the knife, but couldn't. Ramose lunged for Mike again, plunging the knife downward. Micky saw Mike's eyes widen in fear again, and he rolled out of the way just in time. The knife plunged into the wooden floorboards, but Ramose was able to pull it back out with ease.

"Get back here, you little…!" Micky growled, lunging for Mike again.

"Mike!" he heard Peter and Davy yell in unison. Peter abandoned his retreat and rushed back over to Micky. Ramose stopped him before he could even get close. With a wave of his hand, Peter was stopped in his tracks and thrown back across the room violently.

"Micky!" Mike said as he tried to push himself up. Micky's heart broke as he fell right back down. "Micky, come on," Mike continued. "You pushed through for a second. I saw it! I heard it! Keep fighting!"

"Shut up," Ramose growled through Micky and brought the knife down again. Mike dodged it, but not quickly enough. Micky felt the knife slice through his friend's leg. Mike let out a loud gasp of pain. Micky screamed again. This time, however, the scream actually came out of his mouth instead of just reverberating through his head.

"I need him back in the circle!" he heard Isis yell. Ramose took control again, but Micky felt he was much weaker now. The spell Isis was doing must be working. Forgetting about Peter and Mike, Ramose took control of Micky again and ran towards Isis and Davy. Davy was sitting next to her holding the book open for her so she could use both hands to keep the invisible shield up around them. Davy's eyes were filled with pain. It was clear to Micky that he wanted desperately to help Mike and Peter, but knew if the left her side Isis wouldn't be able to recite the spell that was weakening Ramose.

Peter tackled him again, however, before Micky even got close to them. They both fell to the ground with a thud. Peter was pinning Micky to the ground by sitting on his back. Micky knew he was going to be covered in bruises when this was over, but he didn't care. Ramose tried to force Peter off him, but was weaker now, so Micky was able to keep his body lying flat on the ground. But it only lasted seconds. Ramose took control again and, remembering Peter's bruised stomach, flung Micky's arm back. Micky's elbow made contact with Peter's stomach, causing him to double over in pain. The momentary flinch from Peter allowed Micky to push himself up, but once again he was pushed to the ground before he could get all the way up. This time Mike was on him.

"Peter, help me," Mike said. His voice was filled with pain and Micky once again felt like crying. Especially when he saw the blood staining Mike's pants from where the knife had slashed him. Mike grabbed the back of Micky's neck and his arm, pinning it behind his back. Peter quickly recovered and did the same with the other arm. They carefully dragged Micky back to the circle and Davy rushed to move a few candles out of the way so they wouldn't have to worry about catching fire. Once back inside the circle of candles, Peter kneeled on Micky's back while still holding his arm tightly. Mike leaned on his legs to keep him from kicking. His long slender frame worked in his favor as it wasn't much of a stretch to hold Micky's arm in one hand and dig his knees into Micky's legs.

Ramose forced Micky to struggle again, but with the two of them on him, it was too much. Micky felt relief wash over him. It was finally going to end. His friends had managed to gain the upper hand and Ramose couldn't fight back anymore. He could feel the anger Ramose felt well up inside him, but focused on the hope he was feeling. That gave him the strength to stop Ramose from struggling as much.

"Davy, I need you to take the scarab and put it on his arm," Isis said.

"What?!" Davy cried.

"I know it's gross, but you have to. Once it bites him, take it off. You have to do it quickly, though. They're known to burrow."

"Burrow?"

"Davy, just do it!" Mike yelled. "I can't…" Mike's voice trailed off a little. He was obviously in a lot of pain and weak.

"Davy, please hurry!" Peter pled. Micky noticed that his voice was hoarse, as though he were about to cry. "I don't know how much longer we can do this." Ramose tried once again to break through and struggled a little against the weight bearing down on him. Peter dug his knee further into Micky's back. Micky was in pain, but he wasn't going to let that show. He didn't want them to feel bad and loosen their grips. Davy did as he'd been instructed. Micky felt Peter pull up his sleeve a little and Davy put the scarab on his arm. Isis was still speaking in a different language. Once the beetle bit him again, he jerked. Both he and Ramose felt the pain. Davy quickly grabbed the bug and put it back in the jar, all the time muttering about how gross it was.

"How much longer?" Mike asked. He sounded winded. Micky felt terrible. He couldn't dwell on it for long, however, as he felt that ice cold feeling on his arm again. It was working. Isis couldn't answer Mike; she was still reciting the spell.

"Peter," Micky wheezed out, but it wasn't him. Ramose had controlled him again and was trying to pretend to be Micky. "I'm ok now. Please, I can't breathe!" Micky tried to shout to Peter not to get off him yet. It wasn't quite over. Peter couldn't get up now. Ramose was trying to appeal to Peter's sense of loyalty and friendship. He was trying to make Peter think he was hurting Micky. Which he was, but that wasn't the point.

"Micky?" Peter said, loosening his grip. "I'm so sorry!"

"Peter, don't!" Mike gasped, but it was too late. Ramose was able to wrest Micky's hand out of his grasp and with his hand now free, he used his magic to thrust Peter backwards. Peter landed outside the circle with a loud thud that caused Micky to cringe. Peter lay motionless on the ground as Mike moved to try and keep Micky pinned. But it was just the two of them now, and Mike was injured. Ramose used that to his advantage; his leg now free of Mike's hold, he kicked at Mike's wound. When his foot made contact, Mike cried out in pain.

"Keep him in there!" Isis exclaimed. "It's almost over. If he gets out now, it's over!" Davy jumped in and joined the fray, no longer needing to help Isis. Davy tried to keep Micky from getting up, too, but Davy's short stature was a disadvantage. Micky easily pushed him to the ground. Mike recovered surprisingly quickly, probably because of Isis's warning. Micky tried to move out of the circle of candles, but Mike bent over and head-butted him in the stomach. Micky lurched as the wind was knocked out of him. Davy leapt up and jumped on Micky's shoulders and the sudden weight made Micky fall to his knees. Ramose was becoming enraged now. Micky could still feel the cold feeling spreading through his body, but Ramose was fighting it; desperately trying to at least get out of the circle.

Mike had his arms wrapped around his waist and Davy was still clinging to his shoulders, weighing him down. Ramose used his magic again to summon another knife; this one longer and much more deadly-looking. He heard Davy gasp in fright in his ear, but he didn't let go. Micky fought against Ramose and won momentarily as Ramose tried to swing the knife around to get Davy.

"Davy, let go!" Micky cried in warning. Davy heard it, recognized it as Micky instead of Ramose and quickly let go a second before the knife made contact with his face. But Mike still clung to Micky's waist, trying to pin him down again. Mike tried to plant his feet firmly on the ground and use this as leverage to force Micky back down, but his injured leg faltered. Davy didn't miss a beat. As soon as he'd let go of Micky, he'd tried to grab Micky's wrist and make him drop the knife. Davy gripped Micky's wrist as tight as he could and tried to twist it so that Micky would drop the knife out of pain. Instead, Ramose used his power again to throw Davy across the room. Davy slid across the floor before crashing into the pile of wood that was once their table. His head bounced against one of the boards and he also now lay motionless in a crumpled heap. Now it was just Mike and Micky in the circle again. Micky tried to kick Mike away from him, but Mike let go and backed away. Micky froze for a second, wondering why Mike had let go of him. But his question was answered within a second.

"Forgive me, Micky," Mike said as he kicked Micky in the knee just as Micky tried to jump out of the circle. Micky felt a pop in his knee and he fell to the ground. Mike fell to the ground as well, having used his good leg to kick and his bad leg to support himself. Micky still held the large knife in his hand however. He tried to fight and throw it away, but he couldn't. He was in too much pain at this point. The cold feeling was spread throughout his whole body now and he doubled over in pain as his chest locked up. He fell down on his hands and knees and gasped for air as his lungs temporarily stopped working. Mike kneeled on the ground next to him and pushed him to the ground again, not knowing Micky couldn't breathe. This made it easy for Mike though to pin Micky to the ground despite the pain Mike was obviously in. Mike had neglected to dispose of the knife however. Ramose knew it was over, and Micky felt his anger surge through him. With one last burst of anger and energy, Ramose made Micky grab the knife again and roll over just enough to plunge the knife into Mike's stomach.

Micky felt pain course through him as Ramose's soul left his body. He was finally free. But he couldn't focus on that. The only thing he could focus on was the look on Mike's face. It was a grotesque mixture of pain and shock. Micky felt everything. He felt the blade cut through his friend's stomach and he felt the blood drip on his own hands. His best friend's blood. Micky immediately crumbled. Mike fell over, clutching his stomach in agony.

"Mike!" Micky cried. Micky pushed himself to his knees. Time seemed to come to a complete stop. The world seemed to come to a complete stop around them. Micky cradled Mike's head in his hands. "No, no, no, no, no," was all he could say. He felt tears slide down his face as he began to sob. He looked down at his friend's face in his lap. Mike was pale. But his face eerily showed no more pain.

"Micky," Mike whispered. "It's ok. I don't blame you." Micky was so wracked with guilt and fear, he barely noticed Isis kneeling on the other side of Mike.

"Micky, relax," she said.

"How can I relax!?" he cried out. "I stabbed him! He's dying!" On either side of the room, Micky heard Peter and Davy begin to stir. They both seemed to realize the situation at the same time.

"Mike!" They exclaimed in unison, both rushing over to their fallen friend's side. Peter skidded to a halt and knelt down next to Micky who was still cradling Mike's head in his hands, while Davy knelt next to Isis. The four surrounded Mike as he lay there bleeding.

"What happened?" Davy asked on the verge of tears.

"I'm so sorry," Micky wept. "I'm so sorry. I…I tried to stop it…I couldn't fight..." Peter placed a hand on Micky's back trying to comfort him.

"Micky, stop," Mike whispered again. "I told you, it's not your fault."

"We need to call an ambulance," Davy said starting to get up.

"There's no time for that," Isis said. "He'll die before he gets there. Besides, what are you going to tell them? Micky's the one with blood on his hands. They aren't going to believe he did it while possessed." Micky cried even harder at her words. He knew she wasn't trying to blame him, but he still felt guilty. She was right. Mike's blood was on his hand. Isis wrapped her hand around the handle of the knife.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, his voice low and broken.

"Healing him," Isis answered. "Mike, this is going to hurt. Ready? One…two…three." She pulled the knife out very quickly and Mike gasped very loudly in pain. Micky's whole body went weak at the sight of Mike's eyes widening in pain again.

"What have I done?" Micky sobbed. Peter wrapped his arms around Micky and pulled him tight to him.

"Mike's right, Micky," Peter said. "It's not your fault. You didn't do this. We saw you fighting for control. You did everything you could." Isis ignored them and held her hands over Mike's stomach. Nothing happened for several moments. Micky could only watch as Mike slowly went limp in his hands and his eyes closed.

"Mike?" Davy whispered. "Wake up! Mike!" But Mike lay there. He looked as if he were just sleeping. Micky let out a strangled sob and Peter pulled him even closer. Davy spoke desperately to Isis. "Why isn't it working? Peter was healed almost instantaneously!"

"Peter's wound was much smaller," Isis explained. "I have to focus on fixing everything. Not just the veins and skin. It takes longer with a larger wound." Moments after she spoke, Micky saw the same light that had come from Peter's wound as he healed coming from Mike now. A small spark of hope rose in him. After another few moments, Mike let out a loud gasp and nearly bolted upright. Isis quickly put her hand on his shoulder to push him back down. "Relax," she told him. "You're ok now, but you have to relax."

"Mike!" Davy exclaimed throwing his arms around him in a tight hug.

"I could only heal this wound," Isis explained. "I don't have the strength to heal you the rest of the way."

"That's ok," Mike croaked out. "Davy, please let go, I can't breathe."

"Sorry," Davy said as he immediately released Mike.

"You're ok?" Micky asked hesitantly.

"I'm ok, buddy," Mike answered, although his voice was still strained. "What about you?"

"Doesn't matter," Micky answered. He was really just glad that Mike was going to be ok.

"Sure it does," Peter asked, still holding tightly onto Micky.

"Of course it does," Davy added. "Are you ok now?"

"I'm fine," Micky lied. His body was sore and achy, but he had meant it when he said it didn't matter. All that mattered were his friends.

"I doubt it," Isis said. She leaned over Mike and took the amulet from around Micky's neck. "You all need to get some rest. You've all been battered pretty badly. But first we need to tend Mike's leg. Davy, do you guys have any first aid supplies?" Davy nodded and leapt up to get them. "Peter, how does your head feel?"

"A little sore, but I'll be fine," Peter answered. "I don't think I'm really hurt anywhere else. Maybe just a few bruises that will heal."

"I'm so sorry, Peter," Micky said.

"Stop that," Peter said.

"We'll be fine," Davy said returning with several bandages, towels, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

"Hold his leg up," Isis instructed Davy. He did and Isis rolled Mike's pants up so she could get to the gash on his leg.

"It looks deep," Davy said. "He's probably going to need stitches."

"Isis is right," Mike said. "You can't take me to a hospital. They'll arrest Micky. His are the only fingerprints on the knife."

"So what do we do?" Peter asked.

"I may not be able to do as good a job as a doctor, but I was taught how to tend to injuries like this," Isis said waving their concerns away. "Healing a wound is something most of us can do magically, but it weakens us, so we were also trained the natural way of tending to wounds. I can do a good enough job stitching this on my own."

"Are you sure?" Micky asked. He didn't care so much if he went to jail. He just wanted his friends to be ok.

"I was trained by one of the top surgeons in England at the time," she answered. She waved her hand over an empty spot on the floor and a needle and thread appeared.

"Wait, you're going to stitch his leg here?" Micky asked. "Without any painkillers or anything?"

"What choice do I have?" she answered.

"Take him to the hospital!" Micky exclaimed pulling away from Peter a little.

"You'll get arrested," Peter said.

"I don't care!" Micky protested. "Do you have any idea how painful this is gonna be for him?"

"Probably pretty painful," Mike said. "But I'm not going to let you go to jail on my account."

"Mike…" Micky started to protest again, but Mike cut him off.

"No more arguing, shotgun" Mike said offering a forced smile.

"I hate to say it, but he's right," Davy said. "We aren't letting you go to jail." Davy stood up and seemed to look around for something. He came back quickly with a rubber bone.

"What is that?" Isis asked.

"We collect really odd things around here," Davy answered. "Mike, bite on this." He put the bone in Mike's mouth for him to bite on.

"So I've noticed. I have to clean it first," Isis said. "Micky, keep holding his head steady in your lap." Micky nodded. "Davy, I need you to support his leg still. He's going to jerk and I need him to stay steady." Davy nodded and put a towel across his lap before resting Mike's leg across it and holding tightly. Peter grabbed Mike's hand in his and squeezed reassuringly. Isis then carefully poured some peroxide over the wound to clean it. Mike gasped in pain and his entire body went completely rigid. Davy successfully held Mike's leg still and Mike squeezed Peter's hand against the pain. Micky held Mike's head as he thrust it back arching his back in pain and biting on the rubber bone. Micky closed his eyes against the tears threatening to pour out of his eyes. He couldn't watch. He knew his friends were right; it wasn't his fault, but he that did nothing to erase the feelings of guilt he harbored. He should have fought harder. He should have ignored the pain in his body like Ramose had to render one last vengeful blow.

Mike cried out in pain again against the rubber bone and Micky knew that Isis had begun stitching his wound. Micky still couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. He couldn't bear to see his friend in pain like this. Mike continued to moan and gasp in pain for what seemed like forever before he finally relaxed. With each pained gasp, Micky felt as though someone were stomping on his heart. Micky opened his eyes to make sure his friend hadn't passed out again once he felt Mike relax. Mike stared up at him. His eyes and face told Micky he was weak and in a lot of pain; close to passing out, but otherwise ok. Micky looked at Isis and saw she had now begun wrapping his leg in a bandage. Davy and Peter looked like they were fighting back tears as well.

"Ok," Isis said when she had taped the bandage over Mike's leg, "carry him to bed. He needs to sleep." Micky and Peter both stood to help carry Mike, seeing as how the three of them were the tallest. As soon as he stood up, however, Micky felt immediately dizzy and weak and fell back to the ground.

"Micky!" His three friends exclaimed in shock.

"Are you ok?" Peter asked, dropping to his knees to check on Micky.

"What happened?" Mike asked.

"I guess I'm a little worse than I thought I was," Micky said. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was beginning to notice the pain coursing through his body. His ribs ached, his back ached, his stomach ached, and his knee was killing him.

"It's ok, Micky," Peter said. "Davy and I can carry Mike to his bed." Davy nodded and moved to Peter's side to lift Mike by the shoulders.

"Wait," Mike said once they had lifted him up between them. "Micky, please remember what I said, ok? This isn't your fault." Mike stopped as though waiting for a response. Micky didn't have one. "Micky?" he prompted again.

"I…Mike, I…" he really didn't know what to say. His brain and his heart were telling him two different things.

"I'll talk to him," Isis said, kneeling next to Micky. "Go get some rest, Mike. You'll never heal if you don't."

"Nobody blames you, Mick," Davy said as they began to carry Mike off to his room.

"You know that, don't you?" Isis said once they'd left the room. "There's nothing you could have done."

"Part of me knows that," Micky said hanging his head and staring at the ground.

"And the other part?"

"I…I should have done more."

"Like what?"

"Fight harder…I don't know."

"You fought as hard as you could. He was strong. There were a few times you fought and came through. You saved Davy. You stopped Ramose from cutting Mike's throat. I couldn't have saved him from that. You fought when it counted the most. That's what matters."

"I can't help it," Micky said, fresh tears welling in his eyes. "I've felt guilty since I attacked you in Mr. Williams' house. That's why I wanted to go for that walk in the first place. I couldn't stand to see the bruises on your throat and wrist anymore. And then Mr. Manfred showed me the bruise I gave Peter when I kicked him. It was so big. And dark. Not to mention I gave Mike a bloody nose. And now this. I just…if I hadn't left, none of this would have happened."

"You don't know that. He was waiting outside for the right opportunity."

"Yeah, but that opportunity was me leaving."

"He probably wouldn't have waited long."

"Even if…"

"Micky, stop," Isis cut him off and grabbed his chin, lifting it so he was forced to look her in the eye. Something he didn't want to do. "This isn't your fault, okay. I know it's hard to battle these feelings, but you have to. I don't blame you. Mike doesn't blame you. Peter doesn't blame you. Davy doesn't blame you. The only one laying any blame on you is yourself."

"I know that. I know none of you blame me. It doesn't change the fact that this is Mike's blood on my hands."

"I seem to recall you also had my blood on your hands when you helped heal me," Isis answered.

"That was different. I felt this. I felt the knife go in his stomach. Because it was me who did it. It was…" Micky's voice was cut off as Isis suddenly leaned in and kissed him. The kiss only lasted seconds, but it seemed to last longer. The anger, hatred and guilt he was harboring seemed to slowly dissipate as he stopped fighting and just relaxed at her touch.

"I said 'stop', Micky," she said as she pulled away, but she rested her forehead against his and spoke softly. "You had no control. No choice. I understand how you feel, but you have to force yourself to accept that you're wrong. Promise me you'll do that."

"I'll promise you I'll try," Micky answered. "But I have to admit, that kinda helped." Isis smiled and pulled away; much to Micky's disliking.

"Of course it did," she said getting up and holding out a hand to help him get up. "It got you to relax. Now, you need to finish relaxing and lay down. You're body has been through a lot, and I'm not just talking about Peter, Mike and Davy thrashing you." Micky tried standing up again, but nearly fell right back down and was caught by Isis. Peter and Davy rushed over to his side and helped him stand.

"We got him, Isis," Peter said taking Micky from her.

"Why don't we take you to my bed?" Davy asked. "Save us from having to lug you up the stairs."

"How long were you guys standing there?" Micky asked somewhat embarrassed and hoping they'd only just gotten there.

"Oh, not long," Davy said with a slight giggle.

"Probably since about the time you started blaming yourself for going on that walk," Peter said, also with a hint of a giggle. Which meant they had seen Isis kiss Micky. Great. Micky flushed a little, but said nothing as they helped him limp over to Davy's room.


	13. Epilogue

Author's Note: Alas, here it must come to an end….don't want to, but I have ideas for other stuff. Hope you like! I am also bad with coming up with names, but I don't know if anyone will get the references here. Except for maybe my roommate….

Chapter 13: Epilogue

Peter sat down in the living room with a sigh. Then he winced in pain. He'd been so worried about Mike and Micky that he hadn't even noticed how much pain he was truly in. No sooner had he come to than he realized Micky was sobbing over Mike. He'd looked and seen a lot of blood coming from Mike's stomach and Micky in tears cradling him. Not to mention the knife sticking out of his stomach. The world had seemingly skidded to a halt around him. He'd rushed over to Mike's side and was completely terrified. His friend had looked like he was dying. And he could tell that Micky was tearing himself apart because of it. He had done the only thing he could think of and had pulled Micky into a tight embrace. He hadn't wanted to let Micky go. He had been holding on to Micky like a life line as much for his own sake as for Micky's.

Then he had to watch Mike nearly die, get stitched and bandaged, and had to help carry him to his bed. When Micky had fallen to the ground trying to help, Peter's heart broke a little more. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. Davy and Peter had gotten Mike to his bed successfully and as Peter pulled the blankets over his friend to tuck him in, Mike had already fallen asleep. Peter had smiled knowing this was a good thing. Mike would be able to heal a lot faster if he slept. When Davy and Peter had walked back into the living room, they had both paused to listen to Micky berate himself. When Peter had seen Isis kiss Micky, he had smiled again. As had Davy. Both of them knew that Micky liked her and that he would be able to relax better now.

Then they had carried Micky to Davy's bed. Peter was grateful they hadn't had to carry him up the stairs. Micky was still awake when they had tucked him in and left the room, but he looked like he was going to fall asleep very soon. Now Davy and Peter sat in the living room with Isis. Peter was a bundle of bruises and had a few minor little cuts, but knew he'd be ok. The worst injury he had was still the bruise on his stomach. His head came in a close second. Isis dug around in the kitchen for a few moments before she came out with two icepacks and handed one to Peter and one to Davy.

"Ice your heads," she said. "Tell me the truth now. How are you guys?"

"Sore," Davy said.

"Bruised," Peter agreed.

"Head hurts," Davy added.

"A lot," Peter affirmed.

"Probably just minor concussions," Isis said kneeling down in front of Peter. "Neither of you were out for very long. But just in case, Peter, what is 15 plus 25?"

"40," Peter answered almost immediately. "Why?"

"Testing brain function," Isis answered. "You're eyes look fine, too." Now she turned to look at Davy. "Davy, what is 26 minus 5?"

"21," Davy answered, also without missing a beat.

"Ok, you're eyes look fine, too. Where does it hurt most?"

"My head," Davy answered. "But after that, I'd say my back."

"Can I look?"

"Sure." Davy turned a little and Isis lifted his shirt a little. Peter saw a few minor little scrapes on his back and the start of a bruise.

"Doesn't look that bad," Isis reported.

"Doesn't feel that bad," Davy agreed. "Like I said, it's mostly my head."

"What about you, Peter?" Isis asked now turning to him.

"My stomach and my head hurt," Peter answered. He still wasn't wearing a shirt as he had been much more focused on finding a cure for Micky, so Isis knelt down to inspect his bruise.

"That, on the other hand, looks bad," she said. "It'll probably take weeks to heal." Peter looked down at his own stomach now and saw the bruise looked almost black on the outside and dark purple at its center.

"You should probably ice that, too," Davy said. "That looks really painful."

"It is," Peter said. "But I'm still better than Micky and Mike. What happens now, Isis?"

"I don't really know," she answered now taking a seat for herself. "I imagine the police have found Mr. Manfred and his goons. I don't know if he's dead or not, but I still have to figure out how to get the amulet safely out of the country. It will be easier now that Mr. Manfred won't be bothering us anymore."

"Maybe we should check to make sure he's been apprehended first," Davy said.

"Agreed," Peter said. "It'll be in the paper tomorrow, I'm sure. The arrest of a museum curator is bound to be big headlines."

"Can you call anyone over in England who knows about the amulet?" Davy asked. "See what they think?"

"Last time I tried no one was available," Isis said. "They went to the wilderness to start a training regimen. I suppose I could try again."

"Wouldn't hurt," Peter said. "We have a phone over by the table…or what was our table." Peter could now get a true appreciation of the damage they'd done to their house. Peter was grateful that Mr. Babbit was away. If Mr. Babbit had heard any of the crashing furniture, who knows what would have happened.

"This place is a disaster zone," Davy muttered. Not only had their table been shattered, but their couch had been upended and chairs were thrown askew.

"I'll call when I get home," Isis said. "Long distance is expensive."

"Oh, we have a special plan," Peter said. "Davy calls home a lot."

"Ok, maybe you guys should rest, too," Isis said.

"Maybe," Peter said. He did feel exhausted. Too exhausted to really get up and go to his own bed. Instead he leaned his head back in the chair he was sitting in and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, he was asleep too.

* * *

Micky opened his eyes and saw darkness filling the room. The only light was from the moonlight streaming through the window. How long had he slept? He looked over at the clock on his nightstand before remembering he was in Davy's room and the nightstand was on the other side. It was nearly midnight. Which meant he'd slept for more than 15 hours!

"Did I wake you?" Isis asked him. He jumped a little, not even having realized she was there. He saw now she was sitting in a chair next to him with a damp washcloth in her hand.

"No," Micky said. "What are you doing?"

"Checking on you," she answered. "You felt a little warm, so I tried to cool you off. That was a few hours ago." She reached over and touched his forehead. "Guess it worked."

"Oh," Micky said. "How's Mike?"

"Fine. Still sleeping. He's woken up a few times, but only for a few minutes."

"But he's ok?"

"He's fine. I've checked on his leg and it's healing. No signs of infection yet, either."

"What about Davy and Peter?"

"They're fine, too. Davy fared better than Peter. Peter fell asleep only a few minutes after bringing you in here. Davy stayed up. He's been helping me take care of you guys. He just fell asleep a few hours ago."

"Good." Micky relaxed a little.

"I wrapped up your knee," Isis said. "It isn't broken or fractured, just sprained a bit. You'll want to stay off it for a few days."

"Yes, doctor," Micky joked. Even in the darkness, he could see Isis smiling at him.

"You should rest more." She said as she got up and kissed the top of his forehead gently.

"Isis, can I ask you something?" Micky asked causing her to stop halfway to the door.

"Anything."

"I don't really know how to say this…" Micky said pushing himself into a more upright position.

"Just say whatever comes to your mind."

"In the museum when I first met you, you kissed my cheek and said it was because you wanted to get close to me to slip the amulet in my pocket. Then you kiss me in the living room to get me to stop babbling. It seems like every time you've kissed me, you've had ulterior motives. I wonder…" Micky stopped, unable to come up with the words.

"You wonder if I'm using you?" she asked walking back over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Not 'using', exactly," Micky answered. "Well, maybe a little."

"I'm sorry if I made you feel used. I didn't mean that. I just…" she sighed a little and Micky felt bad for bringing this up. "I try not to get too close to other people."

"Why?"

"I don't know, to be honest. I guess it's because I didn't want to get hurt. I saw how devastated my dad was; how much he missed her. He never moved on when she died. I guess I was afraid the same thing would happen to me. I'd find someone, only to lose them."

"That's no way to live. You can't be afraid of what may or may not happen."

"I know. I really didn't mean to string you along. I do like you. I thought you were kinda cute when I saw you charging in trying to be all heroic."

"Yeah, heroic. _That_ worked out well."

"Well, you tried," Isis laughed. "That's what matters. But the thing is, while I really do like you, I'm not going to be here forever. Once I finish school, I'm gone. I want to travel the world."

"I know that. And I don't want you to give up your dreams for me. So in the meantime, what? We just forget and go our separate ways?"

"I don't think I could ever forget someone like you."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"There's always a joke with you, isn't there?" she asked with a laugh. But before he could respond, she leaned over and kissed him again. This time he was sure there was no ulterior motive behind it. He closed his eyes and just went with it. No matter what it meant; what their future held, he would enjoy this moment. He deserved that after everything. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him. He melted at her touch. Everything melted away. His fears, his worries, his guilt. The only thing that mattered in that moment was them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered when she pulled away from him. Again, much to his dismay.

"For what?" he asked.

"I just said we can't do this," she answered.

"There's no reason not to live now, even if we know what's coming. If everyone lived their lives without taking chances because they were afraid of what might happen, the world would be an empty boring place."

"Even if we know it won't last?"

"I'm willing to enjoy what we have. It'll hurt later, but that doesn't mean I want to simply pass up something good because of it." Isis smiled and rolled over so that she lay next to him. Micky rolled over, being careful of his knee and simply held her in his arms. After a few moments, he'd fallen back into a happy, restful sleep.

* * *

Nearly a week later, Micky was feeling almost completely back to normal. The only thing bothering him now was his knee. But he was grateful. He was alive, after all, and so were his friends. The police had indeed arrested Mr. Manfred and his goons upon realizing what he had been planning. They were still baffled as to how so many men had been taken out at once, but they had decided it was better not to press the issue. As it turned out, Mr. Manfred wasn't really Mr. Manfred. He was a wanted man from Italy named Francesco de' Pazzi. Apparently he had murdered a total of 53 people throughout the entire world. So the police really didn't care who had attacked and stopped him. They were just glad someone had.

Davy had completely recovered after one day and had taken it upon himself to play nursemaid to Micky, Peter and Mike. Not that Peter needed much nursing. The bruise on his stomach was still quite large and very black and purple, but it was getting smaller albeit only slightly. Peter could still go about his daily activities and chores and even helped Davy play nursemaid to Mike and Micky, but always forgot he was supposed to take time for himself and put ice on his stomach. Whenever Davy reminded him, he'd turn a slight shade of pink and argue for a moment that he was fine. He'd stop arguing, however, when Mike or Micky would give him a look that told him to simply do as he was told.

Mike had been confined to his bed for the first few days, but grew tired of it really quickly. So Peter and Davy would help him limp out into the living room so he could socialize with his friends. He was still a little bruised and banged up, but he said he was feeling a lot better. His leg was the worst injury he had and the only thing yet to heal for him. Davy had to change his bandage out several times a day to keep it clean and sanitized. So far Davy had done a good job; there hadn't been a single sign of an infection and the wound was healing surprisingly quickly.

Isis left during the day to tend to things regarding the amulet. She had finally spoken to a man in England who was currently on a plane out to Malibu in order to retrieve it. Isis would also make frequent trips to the store for food, pain killers, and bandages along with anything else that the four boys needed. Micky could tell that despite her constant efforts to ease his own guilt, that she felt guilty, too. Micky did what he could to help ease that, but couldn't blame her. His own feelings of guilt were still ever prevalent, even though he knew better than to voice it after only the first day. Davy and Peter had shot daggers from their eyes whenever he'd brought it up. But at night he would lie in his bed, being easier now to climb the stairs with Peter's help, and think. That would all go away when Isis would come into his room and lay with him. Just being able to hold her in his arms eased all tension he had. His world felt right knowing Peter was lying safe and sound in the room next to him and that Mike and Davy were safe and sound below him. And that Isis herself was safe with him.

"How long until that guy's flight gets here?" Peter asked as he handed Mike a glass of water and more pain killers.

"He should have been here by now," Davy answered. "His flight landed an hour ago."

"Wonder what's taking them so long," Mike asked. Isis had gone to the airport to meet him. She was going to bring him back to the pad before taking him to a hotel as he wanted to meet the men who had helped stop Ramose and Mr. Manfred/Francesco de' Pazzi.

"Probably just traffic," Davy answered. "You comfortable enough, Mike? Need any extra pillows under your leg?"

"I'm fine, Davy," Mike answered with a sigh. He was supposed to keep his leg elevated whenever he could, so Davy had put pillows on a chair across from where he was sitting so he would be comfortable propping his leg on it. "Stop fussing over me, please. I'm not a child."

"Nope," Peter laughed. "Just a wounded warrior."

"I don't know about warrior," Mike chuckled.

"You were so a warrior!" Peter exclaimed. "You should have seen yourself! Flying through the air tackling Micky and everything!"

"Peter, you tackled him, too," Mike said blushing a little.

"You both got me," Micky laughed. "I got the bruises to prove it."

"Sorry, Mick," Peter said.

"Don't be," Micky smiled. "But you were both pretty warrior-like. Davy, too. Thought he'd popped vertebrae out of my back when he jumped on my shoulders."

"I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?" Davy asked.

"No," Micky reassured him. "What hurt the most was the kick to the knee. Remind me never to piss Mike off."

"Sorry, buddy," Mike said, but all four of them were laughing.

"You did what you had to," Micky said. "All of you did." They stopped laughing when Isis knocked on the door. Peter rolled his eyes and got up to open it for her.

"I thought we told you that you were welcome here whenever you wanted and you didn't have to knock," Peter said when she'd entered.

"Well, I have company with me this time," she said. Behind her was a very large but young looking man with olive-toned skin. "Guys, this is Giovanni."

"Nice to meet you all," he said with a very thick Italian accent.

"Likewise," Peter said offering his hand to shake it. "I'm Peter. The shortie is Davy, the gimp is Mike, and well, I guess Micky is kinda gimpy, too."

"Not _that_ gimpy," Micky grumbled.

"Gimpy enough where you can't walk around on your own," Peter retorted with a laugh. Micky threw a crumpled up piece of paper at him.

"Isis told me you were clowns," he said with a deep laugh.

"If you can't laugh at life, it gets way too boring," Mike said. "And we'd probably go crazy from the stress."

"Yes, you had quite a week," Giovanni said. "I want to thank you for your assistance. And apologize for your injuries."

"We've had a good caretaker," Micky said with a smile at Isis.

"Yes, Isis has very gentle hands," Giovanni said. A small spark of jealous rose in Micky. What did he mean by that? Peter cleared his throat, apparently picking up on this.

"So, you're taking the amulet back with you?" he asked clearly trying to change the subject.

"Yes," Giovanni answered. "We can hide it and keep it protected. You boys will never have to deal with it again."

"Good," Davy said resting his hand on Micky's shoulder. "And then what will you do?"

"A group of us will stand guard over it," he answered.

"I'm going to stay here and finish school, but in a few years I may have to go and take my turn."

"Probably not," Giovanni said. "The Master says you've already been through enough. He doubts you will need to have anything more to do with it either."

"Oh really?" she asked. "Well, that's good, I guess." They spent the next hour idly chatting about various things. Giovanni said he was going to stay in the hotel for a night and fly back the next morning. Giovanni seemed like a nice enough man, and he certainly was attractive, but Micky didn't like him because he seemed to be flirting a little with Isis the whole time. Peter, Davy, and Mike tried to change the subject every time one of them picked up on it, but Micky stayed unusually quiet; silently seething. He wasn't sure why. He knew his relationship with Isis wasn't going to last. They'd already had that discussion, but he wasn't ready to lose her just yet.

When it was time for Isis to take Giovanni to his hotel, Micky wanted to go with them, but knew if he showed how jealous he felt, she would only get mad. Instead he grabbed her arm when she stood up and pulled her down so that she fell in his lap and kissed her.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"No reason," he lied. "Drive safe." She looked at him skeptically, but didn't push it. She got up and left with Giovanni behind her. Micky smiled when he noticed that Giovanni had looked a little crestfallen. Micky didn't care. He was happy. His friends were safe and happy, he had the love of a beautiful woman, as temporary as it may have been, and he'd never have to deal with that amulet ever again.


End file.
